


eyes off you

by soldouthaz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action, Assassins, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Pining Louis, but not really?, implied bottom Louis, implied top Harry, mentions of guns/violence, not graphic!, please see notes for more info and warnings!, side Ziam, they kill bad people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz
Summary: “Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says.Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back.“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.”--or; a charlie’s angels inspired fic where louis is the brains, harry is the charm, liam is the muscle, and niall drives the getaway car - and zayn is there, too. sometimes.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 85
Kudos: 336





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! a few quick notes before the fic! 
> 
> this au is loosely based around a charlie's angels type universe, so it will have lots of those elements (like minor violence, talk of guns, action scenes, bad guys, etc.) and without spoiling too much, there is a scene involving a car accident as well, although it is fairly short and everyone is okay. please, please reach out to me before reading if you have any questions or concerns, and always make the right decision for yourself and your own health before continuing. 
> 
> and, as always, a big whopping gigantic thank you to ris (falsegoodnight) for beta-ing for me last second and for being an absolutely wonderful friend and writer and person. you're so lovely and I have no idea what I'd ever do without you <3 if you haven't checked her out yet (how could you not have?!) please do so when you can!!!! 
> 
> with that out of the way, please enjoy! you can find me at any of the links at the end of the fic and you're more than welcome to leave kudos or let me know what you think! :) happy reading!

The lights in the dingy downtown Manhattan bar are low and they make it difficult for Louis to see from where he’s situated against the back wall. Face partially lit up from his computer screen and the knobs of his  spine pressed up to the cool brick, he tries to sip lightly on his drink and avoid people’s wandering gazes. Liam’s stern warning not to draw attention to himself rings inside of his ears. 

Luckily no one’s tried to talk to him yet, despite the fact that he’s so far out of his element that it must be strikingly obvious. Still, it doesn’t take much for him to abandon his worries of social negligence and focus his eyes across the floor. 

Every few seconds, between the bodies swaying lethargically on the dancefloor and the pounding bass inside of his ears, Louis can see the beginnings of his plans evolving. 

Harry’s right on time when Louis looks down to check his watch, squinting at the hands that read  _ 9:15 _ . His fingers move quickly over his keyboard, cataloging every move, but his eyes don’t leave the broad stretch of Harry’s back, leaned across the bar a few seats down from their target. 

To Louis’ right, Liam is dancing indifferently with a girl that seems interested in him but Louis can see his gaze moving discreetly from Harry to Louis and back again without stopping to take in the way she’s trying to get his attention. Niall is on the other side of the room, laughing and clinking his beer with a group of people he’d made quick, convenient friends with, waiting for Louis’ signal to pull the car around. 

He never fails to be surprised at how easy it is for all of them to interact with strangers, how effortlessly they can fall into the same sort of social situations that make Louis terrified. 

Just like how Harry’s doing now, leaning forward with a subtle hand on the guy's arm, the first few buttons of his shirt undone just enough to catch people’s attention. He’s poised and laid back all at once, but Louis can tell exactly what he’s doing in a way he doesn’t think anyone else could. It’s easy to forget why they’re here when he’s focused on Harry, makes it a bit easier on his conscience if he concentrates on him and not on the man who’s about to lose his life. 

He’s purposeful as he talks with their target, charming as always and straightforward like Louis wishes he could be sometimes. The guy they’re after tonight is notoriously straight and borderline homophobic, according to Louis’ research, but even he has no trouble falling into conversation with Harry, laughing at his jokes and leaning forward into his space probably subconsciously. Louis doesn’t blame him. 

The lights move again, flashing in time with the rhythm of the music, and the rays catch on the thick, obvious outline of the gun on the guy’s waistband. Louis grimaces. The man probably thought he was being subtle. 

This sort of thing is built into their job, but the sight of anything even remotely violent still makes Louis want to run up there, grab Harry, and take him back to somewhere safe, far away from guns and violence and bad people. 

Instead, he chews nervously on his bottom lip in anticipation and watches as they move closer and closer, until Harry has a hand on his lower back. Then, with careful persuasion and a pout of his bottom lip, he’s pulling the guy out to the dancefloor, smiling brightly as he navigates him to the designated spot. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, Louis gives an inconspicuous nod to Liam, who moves in behind them silently. Without having to look, he knows Niall had been watching Liam and is already headed out to get the car. This part usually moves pretty quickly. 

Louis’ job will be over soon, and he’ll be able to make a hasty exit and slide into his seat in the car behind Niall. They’ll all be high from the adrenaline and they’ll talk about how easy it was and how great each of them were and Louis will probably go home while they go out to celebrate another successful hit. 

Now, though, he’s got to focus. 

Liam slides up behind the guy where Harry’s got him deep in conversation, and carefully slips the gun from his waistband and into his own before purposefully shoving him in the shoulder as a distraction. 

Part one of the plan is complete. Luckily, there are only two parts. 

_ Sorry, man _ , Liam mouths, pretending to be drunk. Their target goes back to dancing after giving him a sharp glare, and Harry grabs him by the wrist, smiles coyly, and walks him to what he’s probably said was the bathroom. 

It won’t be, eventually, when Harry leads him outside and he realizes he’s alone and without his weapon, but Liam will be there to complete the job before he lashes out too much or gets a chance to hurt Harry. 

The guy’s helpless even though he’s a notorious criminal, letting himself be led out toward the back exit without hesitation. Louis almost feels bad for him, but then he remembers why they’re doing this in the first place. Their target has murdered hundreds of innocent people, on top of his list of domestic abuse and assault charges. 

Louis doesn’t feel bad. 

When Harry’s no longer in view, Louis adds some final notes to his summary, shuts the lid of his laptop and stands, leaving his barely touched drink on the table. He makes a beeline for the front door and slips past the crowds and the bouncer into the cool night air, sighing when he spots Niall’s car parked across the street. 

“You alright?” Niall asks when he shuts the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis breathes, “I’m good.” 

Physically, Louis is the smallest out of the rest of them and decidedly the weakest, so the first thing that usually comes out of their mouths afterward is something along the lines of  _ are you okay? _

Most of the time he is, since his job doesn’t really require him to be near the action. One time, though, he’d been pretending to be looking through some documents when they were at an office building and he’d gotten a papercut on his finger. 

Harry kissed it for him when they’d gotten back into the car, and even though it stung for a week afterward, he’d seriously considered recreating the whole ordeal just to feel Harry’s lips on his skin again. He’s sort of pathetic that way, but he’s come to terms with it over the years they’ve been working together. 

“Too easy,” Liam says, swinging open the front door with a laugh and slamming it shut behind him. 

Harry is next, moving right in close to Louis in the backseat, a bit sweaty but happy and beautiful and out of breath like he always is after a job. Several thick wads of cash are deposited onto the console, Liam’s sturdy fingers sifting through it and splitting it evenly amongst them. The guys they target are too easy, lured in by the promise of all sorts of illegal sales without taking any precautions. Oh well, Louis muses, it’s all the more easy for them that way. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Harry grins, a dimple popping out as he glances down at Louis and lowers his voice. “You okay, Lou?” 

He nods, trying to smile back at him. Louis accepts his cut of the cash silently, sliding it into his pocket to transfer to his savings some point later on. 

“You were great tonight, H. I can’t believe he actually danced with you, too.” Niall catches his gaze in the rearview mirror with a chuckle. 

Harry smells like the cologne Louis sprayed on him before they left the hotel earlier, but he also smells like the alcohol and drugs that radiated off of their target as he pockets his own money. Louis wrinkles his nose and cringes. 

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry blushes. 

Even in the low light of the car, Louis can see it on his cheeks when they pass under streetlights and in the light of Liam’s phone when he picks it up to check his notifications. 

They don’t mention anything about what happened after Louis stopped paying attention earlier because they know it bothers him. Louis knows they’ll probably discuss it later on, what techniques they used and how quickly he went down under the strain of Liam’s muscles and Harry’s quiet gaze. He’s glad they spare him the details. 

Most of Louis’ work is done in the months beforehand, careful research and examination of multiple ideas before he settles on one, presents it to the rest of them, and they come up with the rest. Or, more specifically, the exact maneuvers and best avenues to take out their target. 

He snuggles into Harry’s side when he pulls him close, blushes when he feels his nose in his hair. That’s why Harry’s so good at what he does - he’s just naturally social. Charismatic and interesting and unafraid to test people’s limits of personal space. Confident in his own skin. They all are, to some extent, just not Louis. 

“Drinks?” Liam turns to face them with an eyebrow raised. 

“You know it,” Niall grins, “Harry?” 

Through his clothing, Louis can feel the tense of Harry’s body as he glances down. 

“Are you coming with us?” he whispers, thumb moving back and forth on Louis’ leg. 

It’s sweet of Harry to ask, but he already knows Louis’ answer. He asks him every time, and Louis hates telling him no, but he’s always so tired after planning a hit for months and then finally knocking it off of their list that all he wants to do is fall into bed for a few days afterward. 

Louis shakes his head. 

“I’ll have a few, then head back to the hotel,” Harry decides with a nod, looking back up at Liam and Niall. 

A compromise, then. Harry has always been a people-pleaser. 

Everything is pitch black outside by the time they pull up out front of the hotel, and Harry walks him up to his room and makes sure he gets safely inside before heading back downstairs. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” 

Louis waves as he exits, shuts and locks the door behind him and tries not to think about the way Harry’s hand lingered on his lower back when they stepped out of the car earlier. He’s asleep before his head even really hits the pillow. 

+

The morning afterward, Louis is awake long before any of the rest of them are, already researching their next job. Harry says he’s too invested in his work, that he should relax and let loose a little, but in truth this is the only thing Louis is good at and he’s afraid that if he takes a break from it for too long they’ll tire of him. He’d be useless, basically, even more than he already considers himself to be. 

So he sips on his drink and scrolls a bit further down the list of results for the name he’s got typed into the search bar, taking shorthand notes in his journal for when he’ll need them later. 

Despite his aversion to anything remotely violent, Louis loves his job. It’s rewarding, getting to play a part in karma, and it makes him feel like he has some sort of purpose. He’d spent so long living with his father that he’d been sure he didn’t have one at all, until Liam, Niall, and Harry came along. 

He’s still working through the repercussions, but he’s somewhat happy now. 

“Hey,” Harry startles him, sliding in easily through the cracked door with Louis’ extra hotel key card he’d stolen when they’d arrived. 

Louis shouldn’t be surprised, really, from how many times it’s happened over the years, but it still scares him when he does that. 

He plops down onto Louis’ bed and peeks over his shoulder where Louis’ sitting at the desk next to it, squinting his eyes at the screen. 

“Already?” he asks, quickly switching his demeanor, “What’s the info?” 

“Maksim Volkov,” Louis repeats the name on his screen to Harry, “He’s turning thirty in two weeks, and he’s going to be at a club in Baltimore.” 

“Perfect, and his offenses?” 

Louis sighs. “The cops have been chasing him for months now. He killed his wife and two children, injured or killed over fifteen innocent people on his way out, and he’s heavily involved in the drug trade down there with possible links to human trafficking.” 

He hears the springs of the bed groan as Harry stands, moving behind Louis to massage his tense shoulders. 

“Alright, that’s enough for now, I think.” 

The lid of Louis’ laptop is shut hesitantly, like Harry’s afraid that Louis may hit him for it or something, but he lets himself be led over to the small sofa right behind him without much complaint. 

In a lot of ways, Louis is exactly like their targets. He’d never cause anyone serious harm, but he falls into Harry's traps just as easily as everyone else does. It’s pathetic, how quick Louis is to try and appease him or do whatever he asks. It’s never been like that with Liam or Niall, but being sociable and alluring isn’t  _ their _ job description, so he feels like at least some of it is justified. 

Harry pulls him down onto the cushion and lays his head in Louis’ lap, pulls a thin  wrist into his hair so Louis will drag his nails over his scalp like he always does. 

He’s breathtaking, is the thing. Laid out over Louis’ lap like a vision with his hair spread out around his face like a halo, slightly damp from a shower, and his face soft and devoid of any harsh lines or fake smiles like he gives to people when they’re working. 

He looks like the boy Louis wishes he would’ve gotten the chance to know before he started this business, without all of the sharp edges and guarded eyes. He’ll settle for this, though. 

When his eyes flicker open to find Louis’, he smiles at him lazily and pushes further into his hand. Sometimes, when it’s quiet like this, Louis thinks Harry may just feel something for him, too. But then - 

“Oi, what’s the plan?” Niall barrels into the room through the unlocked door right in front of Liam, and they both make themselves comfortable on his bed. 

Harry doesn’t move from his lap. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, “I told them to meet us in here. I hope that’s okay.” 

But then -  _ that _ . It drives Louis insane because part of him thinks that if there was anything really  _ there _ , Harry would at least try and be somewhat discreet, to keep their private moments private. He doesn’t though, and every time someone walks in on them like this he’s completely transparent, inviting them over to hang out and still looking up at Louis like he was two seconds ago before Liam and Niall came in. 

So Louis launches into the latest target, catches them up to speed on the details he has so far and then discusses a few possible plans to take him down. 

Niall is always loud and brash, a presence that fills up even the largest room. Liam tries to make jokes and camouflage himself into whatever social environment necessary to get a job done, and he’s wonderful at it. And Harry is clear, always prepared for anything and optimistic enough to make even Louis hopeful. 

But when Louis is explaining something to them, they’re all quiet. They nod and hum their approvals, but they treat him like he’s  _ important _ and Louis loves it. Harry squeezes his hand reassuringly when he’s finished speaking, and Louis flushes and glances down at him gratefully. 

And just like that, they’ve outlined their next hit. The thought of the takedown still makes him feel slightly icky, but he focuses on the way Harry’s mouth moves when he speaks and tries to tune everything else out - including his own thoughts. 

“Baltimore, you said?” Liam asks, grinning over at Niall. 

Louis nods. 

“Baltimore, baby!” Niall cheers, standing from the bed. 

They talk animatedly all the way to the door, where they stop and turn back to face Harry again. “You coming, H?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec,” he nods. “They’re so  _ loud _ ,” he tells Louis once they’ve closed the door, grinning. 

Louis laughs, “I’ve noticed.” 

He keeps his head in Louis’ lap for another few minutes before he huffs and swings a leg to the ground, moving to stand. “I’m going to train with them for a bit, I’ll see you later, yeah? We’ll have dinner?” 

Louis gets a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before Harry’s leaving, and he’s alone once again. 

His job is also wonderful because it provides a distraction for things like  _ Harry _ . 

One day he’ll have enough courage to grab Harry’s hand, pull him back to the couch, and tell him everything he’s been feeling for him over the past few years. For now, Louis sighs and reopens his computer and doesn’t say a word. 

+

Baltimore is cold when they first arrive. He wears Harry’s jacket as they check into a hotel with their fake IDs and he tries not to inhale the scent that permeates with it as the thick leather hangs off of his shoulders. 

He’s almost finished with the outline but he spends the rest of the day and that night adding extra details that might help them somehow, sharing the final draft with each of the boys the next morning. 

Running on four and a half hours of sleep, Louis stumbles his way through a shower and makes himself get dressed in comfortable clothes. Mission days are fun and exciting sometimes, but Louis spends most of them in a nervous ball of guilt and anxiety, spiraling until it’s all finally over. 

Punching the button on the thermostat near the door, Louis turns up the temperature so it won’t be so cold as he shuffles over to the small desk and pulls out his laptop, ready to obsess over the details once again. 

_ Valeriy Orlov. M. 32.  _

Louis squints at the name. He’s been having trouble with this one. 

The man has done things that deserve a life sentence ten times over. He’s been cruel and ruthless and attacked innocent people simply because he was told to. He’s one of Baltimore’s most widely known underground members, notorious for his torture techniques and his infamous name meaning ‘strong’. 

But usually these guys are alone. Louis doesn’t feel as bad then because oftentimes their targets don’t let anyone close enough to really get to know them. They’re just evil people and cutting them off from doing those things feels like the right thing to do. 

Orlov has a family, though. He’s got a wife and children at home. He has friends. Louis doesn’t understand how he can have that love in his life and still be able to hurt so many innocent people. 

It’s times like these when he has trouble justifying all of this. Who are they to determine if another person’s life is worthy of living or not? But then again, their target also took that opportunity away from people who deserved to live long, happy lives. 

He’s left in a morally grey area, floating between good and bad. They’re the good guys, he tells himself. He and Harry and Liam and Niall. And what they do protects so many others from the same fate as Orlov’s victims and all of the other people they’ve dealt with. 

Louis’ just glad he has the guys to balance him out. Liam’s awkward but in the most endearing way and he brings Louis back down to earth when he’s too in his head. Niall lives his life without apology in a way that Louis wishes he could. And Harry - Harry’s everything. 

There’s only one reason that it all works, anyway. Each of them is an outcast in some way. Liam’s been teased his entire life for simply keeping his nose down and staying out of drama, growing up enrolled in one of the most privileged schools in all of London. His parents are nice enough but they don’t understand why he won’t rise to their level and bask in the money they provide for him. When he left, his name had been on everyone’s lips as the black sheep of the family, rebellious and unforgiving when all he’d wanted was to earn his own living and give back in some way. Wanting to be completely rid of his old life, Liam grew up, lost the baby fat and replaced it with firm muscles, determined to prove anyone that teased him before undoubtedly wrong. His heart of gold hadn’t ever changed. 

Niall’s story is a bit more complicated. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in Ireland, half of his family had been involved in illegal trade and other things that he still refuses to talk about even now. He’d seen too much at too young an age and it’d scarred him, but luckily for the better. Before his uncles could coerce him into doing business with them as a teen, he’d run away and settled in a dingy one bedroom apartment in London, living off of tips from the bar he worked at and making the best of his situation as always. The cosmic debt he feels for being related to monsters, he says, is sometimes too much to handle. Anything he can do to reverse the damage they’ve done, he’s willing to do it. 

Louis doesn’t know much about Zayn since he hadn’t been working with them at that point. Only that he tends to be independent and mysterious, and not to mention him in front of Liam. 

But Harry, he does know. Perhaps a bit too well. His entire life he’s been the center of attention. He’s told stories of how popular he was in school, how many people fawned over him at any given moment. He’d played footie like a star, had consistently full marks in his classes, and somehow also managed to navigate all of the parties as well. 

The way Harry talks about his past is never hopeful. He doesn’t sugarcoat or try to find a silver lining when he describes losing himself at university, tumbling head first into a world of drugs and alcohol and everything he’d never tried before, losing his scholarship and falling out with his family for a bit. 

One of the men he’d dated, coincidentally, had been involved in some under-the-table type dealing and Harry found himself at the wrong place at the wrong time when he’d accidentally walked in on them. Somehow he’d managed to not get himself killed then and there, but Harry says most of his virtue disappeared anyway. For a few years he’d been stuck working for his boyfriend, seducing some of England’s most dangerous men into doing business with them and reaping the benefits of the stolen cash and luxury at the expense of his own wellbeing. 

Maybe he’s biased, but Harry’s story always gets to him the most. His family still doesn’t talk to him much, only on birthdays and Christmas, but he knows Harry sends them money every year. By this point he’s sent enough to support them several times over, covered for the rest of their lives. They never ask how he acquired it. 

And then there’s Louis. He figures there’s no use in rehashing his own past and reopening old wounds. Maybe when he’s feeling nostalgic, he supposes. 

“Louis?” 

“Yeah?” 

Eyes flicking away from his computer and over to the doorway, he raises a brow in Harry’s direction. 

“You ready?” 

There’s always this moment right before they leave where Louis feels like his breath is being taken from him. Like he’s been fooling himself into having this deceptive kind of power for far too long and it’s going to catch up with him in the form of everyone else getting hurt. He doesn’t think he could live with himself if that ever happened. 

“I’m ready,” he echoes. Shutting the lid of the laptop and grabbing his jacket off of the nearest chair, Louis sighs and heads for the door. 

The lock clicks shut behind him and Harry throws an arm around his shoulders, walking them down to the lift. 

“I was thinking we could go down to the pool later tonight,” Harry says, leaning forward to press the button. “I bet no one will be down there that late and Li and Ni will be busy because he rented  _ Die Hard _ before I left their room earlier,” he snorts. 

Harry’s ability to talk so casually just before he’s about to enter a literal life and death situation will never fail to amaze him. 

Nonetheless, Louis smiles at him and laughs lightly. “They do love  _ Die Hard, _ don’t they?” 

Arms crossed over his chest and still leaned into Harry’s side, they walk out into the lobby where the others are waiting. With a few fist bumps between them and a polite nod toward the nice lady behind the front counter, they’re headed outside. 

“Do you think we could stop and get some food first?” Liam asks, slipping into the front passenger seat. “I’m starved.” 

“Ni’s driving,” Harry shrugs. 

Buckling into his own seat next to Harry in the back, Louis bites his lip and looks between the two of them in the front. He really  _ could _ go for a burger or something right now. 

Niall sticks the key into the ignition and sighs, adjusting the mirrors and the seat of the rental car to his liking. He turns and fixes Liam with a glare, and then promptly peels out of the parking lot. 

“You  _ are _ aware we just got snacks from the vending machine before we left,” he checks. 

“Yeah…” Liam hums. 

It’s quiet for a few moments as they turn out onto the main road and get a bit further down. Louis glances at Harry who tosses him an amused smile, a dimple carving out his cheek. Subtly, Harry spreads his legs until his knee knocks into Louis’. 

And then the car is swerving again, narrowly missing the curb as they turn into the McDonalds parking lot and into the drive through line. 

“Alright, what do you guys want?” 

A collective laugh sounds throughout the vehicle and they relay their orders, each tossing in a few dollars as they pull up to the window. Niall distributes their food one by one and Louis takes a long sip of his soda, the nauseousness in his stomach easing a bit with the smell of familiar fast food. 

Before he can start eating, Harry reaches over and steals several of his fries. 

“Hey,” Louis whines. 

He can’t stay angry for too long though, not when he glances up again. Harry’s got his eyes crossed and two fries sticking out of the corners of his mouth, his nostrils flared. Louis snorts a laugh. 

“Hey, we’re in serious mode now,” Niall scolds. “Right, Liam?” 

Liam pauses mid-chew to glance backward at them, wide eyed with ketchup smudged on his chin. He shrugs then goes back to eating as they pull back onto the road. 

_ “Serious-mode,” _ Harry mouths silently toward him, rolling his eyes as he mocks Niall. 

This time Louis stifles his laugh with the back of his hand, swallowing another warm fry. Harry winks at him before he opens up his own burger. 

Yeah, Louis’ grateful for the distraction. 

+

Valeriy Orlov goes down within minutes. It’s one of the easier targets they’ve done, but Louis still can’t help the feeling they’re being watched the entire time. He tells himself he’s just paranoid while he sees Harry lure him in, when Liam follows them out the back door, and when they all meet Niall back at the car afterward. 

Much like Harry said earlier, Liam and Niall head immediately back to the hotel to shower and watch their movie, but Louis can’t seem to fight off the lingering nervousness still pricking at his insides. Attentive as ever, Harry takes him upstairs to grab their bathing suits and then back down through the empty lobby, sliding the keycard into the pool area. 

“You wanna change?” Harry asks him, already stripping off his shirt to lay across one of the chairs. 

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “I think I’m just gonna put my feet in.” 

Harry shrugs, “Suit yourself.” 

While Louis sits with his back turned Harry quickly finishes up, not even bothering to prepare himself before he steps right over the edge and into the room temperature water. Some of it splashes Louis and he squeals, putting up his hands as if that will stop the droplets from landing on him. 

When Harry emerges with a grin, he shakes out his hair and runs a hand over his eyes to rid them of the water, wading with his arms outstretched. Somehow he gets locked into a water fight without really even meaning to, kicking his foot up to spray Harry with it as he splashes it back at him in return. 

For a few minutes it’s enough, but then silence settles over them again, Harry turning to float on his back, his eyes shut and breaths even. Louis almost doesn’t want to disturb him, but he can’t help being curious. 

“Do you ever feel, y’know,” he pauses, swallowing, “guilty?” 

“Guilty? Because of what we do?” Harry echoes without missing a beat. “Of course I do.” 

Baffled at his honesty, Louis squints at his calm form and clears his throat. Maybe there’s some kind of tip he hasn’t heard because he seems to be the only one that carries all of this stuff with him for so long afterward. 

“How do you deal with that?” Louis wonders quietly. 

Dipping backward again, Harry stands up straight in the water and wets his hair again, stretching his arms above his head before he begins to swim slow laps back and forth. 

“Well,” Harry begins, “I just have to remind myself why we’re doing it. That these people have caused so much pain and suffering in the world. These are people who don't deserve second chances.” 

Louis nods. He knows Harry’s seen a lot more in his lifetime than Louis has and that it’s hardened him into someone who loves fiercely but protects just as much. In Harry’s eyes, doing this kind of thing prevents these bad people from hurting his family, his friends, and other people’s loved ones. In his eyes everything evens out. 

“What’s bothering you, Lou?” Harry swims over to him, planting his wet palms on the concrete beside where he’s sitting. Louis looks down at his own feet in the water and sighs. 

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Just a weird night I guess.” 

Harry hums like he understands but Louis can’t tell if he really does or not. Because none of them really have anyone else, they  _ are _ their own confidants, but sometimes the gaps between him and Harry seem too far to bridge. Sometimes Louis won’t even let himself look at him for too long because it just feels wrong. In some alternate universe, Louis would have told him a long time ago how he felt. But that universe isn’t this one.He startles from his thought when Harry pulls himself out of the pool and sits beside him again, still dripping wet when he presses their shoulders together. Long fingers tap him on the cheek lightly, catching his attention until Louis looks over at him. 

“You’re a good person, Louis,” he says. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

The guilt soars. Louis thinks he knows why. And it’s right on the tip of his tongue, has been for a long time now, and he aches to tell Harry about it. Sometimes he comes so close. And then - 

“Well, I was hoping to waste a bit more time. The movie’s probably only halfway done right now,” Harry estimates, toweling off and tugging his shirt back over his head. Digging the rental keys from his discarded trousers, he dangles them in front of Louis with raised brows. “You hungry?” 

Without a word, Louis stands and grabs his shoes from beside the door, leaning back into him on the way to the car. 

_ Next time, _ Louis thinks. He’ll tell him next time. 

+

As per usual, Louis only lets himself enjoy a few days off before he’s got their next target outlined again. The trip to Atlanta passes by too quickly and he spends most of it making small notes on his phone, doing what he can when they stop at places that have internet connection. 

He and Harry get settled into their room adjacent to Liam and Niall’s fairly quickly, although they spend another two hours lounging around and scrolling through their phones before they do anything that’s actually productive. His life feels like it’s passing too slowly except for when they’re on missions when it feels like it’s at some kind of warp speed, his vision blurry and hands shaky with how fast it goes. 

When he’s with Harry, it feels just right. It isn’t too slow or too fast. Louis just exists - anxiousness and worry for the future dissipating into the background for a bit. 

He glances over to the other bed where Harry’s laid out across the still-made bedding, his ankles crossed while he holds his phone up above his face. 

“You’re gonna drop that on yourself, you know,” Louis mutters. 

“Am not,” Harry argues, head swinging sideways on the pillow to look at him. 

Louis shrugs with a raised brow, turning back to his own phone that he’s been just staring at the home screen on for a good ten minutes now. 

Before he can say anything else about it, Harry’s tossing the phone somewhere else on his bed and standing, dragging the duvet cover with him, over his shoulders like some kind of cape. Then he descends onto Louis’ bed instead, covering both of them with it as Louis squeals. 

“S’this better?” he smirks into Louis’ neck, wrapping all of his limbs around Louis until he can’t move. 

Wiggling just to test his non-existent range of movement, Louis groans but grins. “I suppose,” he sighs, his own phone lost somewhere in the sheets. 

“Well,  _ I’m _ comfortable,” Harry says. He tightens his hold on Louis, then exhales contentedly. 

“Can’t. Breathe,” Louis coughs, shoving at him with his shoulders. “Loosen up, you oaf. I’m gonna suffocate.” 

“We can’t have that,” Harry hums. 

He loosens his grip but doesn’t stray far, accidentally nudging their noses together when he removes his face from Louis’ neck. For just a moment he’s close enough to activate all of his senses. Louis can see the green in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks. He can smell Harry’s cologne and the soap from the shower he’d taken earlier, a bit of the sweet caffeine they’d shared on the drive. Louis can feel him on his body, where their bare skin touches on their arms and legs. He can hear the uneven breaths and the small sighs caught between them now. 

Just one more movement and he’d be able to taste him too, the way he’s been wishing he could since he met him. He’s pictured it inside of his head a million times. Just going for it when they’re like this, when it’s just them in their own little world. When there’s nothing else to worry about but their own desires, and Louis’ are building by the second. 

It wouldn’t even be that difficult. He could tilt his head up and they’d be touching,  _ kissing. _ He’d have done it. 

While he’s still imagining it in his head, there’s a familiar knock on the door. Niall and Liam let themselves in with a spare key and Harry pauses for a moment, smiles and kisses Louis on the cheek, then rolls off of him to stand. 

Without any formal greeting, Niall sets his laptop down on the desk and sits, Liam crowding close behind them. Harry offers a hand to help Louis out of the tangled duvet cover and walks them over to Liam and Niall. 

“What’s up?” he prompts. 

“We were doing some research,” Liam starts, cutting himself off abruptly. 

“About the guy Louis told us about,” Niall continues for him. 

Louis leans further into his side with a frown on his lips. Had he not given them enough information before? Louis’ fairly certain he already knows everything there is to know about their new target. 

“What is it?” Harry asks, glancing between the two of them. “Spit it out.” 

“Well,” Liam hesitates, “it’s just, we’ve heard he has a -  _ type _ .” 

Niall flashes the computer screen at them filled with pictures of their target, each time with a man on his arm. Each time with brown haired, visibly petite, compact men. Men that look like  _ Louis _ . 

“No,” Harry says. 

“Harry -” Liam starts. 

“No,” he says again. “Louis’ not going out there. He’ll stay in the back, where it’s safe, like usual.” 

“H -” Liam tries, mouth opening around another argument. 

“I mean it, Liam,” Harry says darkly, one eyebrow raised as if to dare him to try again. He and Niall share a collective sigh, turning dejectedly back to their work. 

In all of the years they’ve been working together, not once has Louis ever needed to step in. There have always been set roles, things that he does and things that Liam, Harry, and Niall do that don’t cross paths. But Louis’ notorious for wanting to be  _ wanted  _ in any way he can, and he’s opening his mouth before he even really thinks it over. 

“I think - I think I can do it,” Louis says. 

In seconds, Harry’s back to shaking his head. He shifts, resting his hand on Louis’ arm. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll go in first like we usually do and you won’t have to go anywhere near him.” 

“I know I don’t have to, I just,” Louis swallows, “I want to.” 

Even  _ he _ doesn’t believe it as the words leave his mouth and Louis halfway hopes Harry will see right through him, but he just grimaces and bites his lip. 

“Are you sure?” Niall checks, glancing between him and Harry. 

“It’s the quickest way to take him down. I don’t mind doing it if it’ll make things easier,” Louis shrugs to downplay his nervous tics. 

Harry’s fingers tighten and then release altogether, inhaling deeply as if to calm himself. He nods once, “If - if you think it’s a good idea.” 

From the way he gulps and his eye twitches, Louis can tell Harry doesn’t think it is. But the fact that he trusts Louis so much that he doesn’t fight him on it has him weak in the knees all over again. He’s determined to do well for  _ all _ of them, but he’d really like to see Harry proud of him after all of this. 

“Thank you, Louis,” Liam smiles, already typing away on his laptop, presumably more notes on what he’s going to wear and how he should act - everything he usually prepares for Harry instead. Louis’ pounding heart lurches in his chest. 

“We need a code,” Harry faces him again. “Something if you feel uncomfortable or you need to get out. And if he  hurt s you in any way -”

“I’ll be fine, H,” he whispers, more for him than for Liam and Niall. 

It takes everything inside of him not to burrow himself in Harry’s chest and beg for comfort but he doesn’t. He thinks about the mission instead, about how everything is resting on his shoulders. 

He’s always known Harry’s job was important, but this is the first time he’s been faced with just how much it truly is. Harry’s the initial pull. They have nothing, no chance without the sharp charisma, the sense of humour and the attraction. Louis doesn’t have any of those things. He bites at a fingernail and Harry catches the motion, squinting as Louis lowers his hand back to his side. 

Louis isn’t meant to do Harry’s job. He’s meant to stay behind a computer screen, to work from the sidelines. That’s the entire reason this has worked so well for them. Liam is good at pinning down what they like, though, and in all fairness, the men in the pictures  _ do _ look like him. If it means protecting them, protecting Harry, Louis’ willing to do just about anything. 

+

Their target is late. 

Bad time management is something Louis loathes but he reckons he can’t do much about it. Besides, he’s much too nervous anyway, panicking about having to actually  _ interact _ with their target this time. 

Harry’s taught him basically everything he knows about how to draw them in but Louis’ missing that piece that Harry has, that charm and allure that never fails to captivate everyone in the room. Where he knows how to work his body and his words and his motions, it feels like Louis’ attempts just fall flat. 

Nonetheless, they’re already here now and their target should be arriving any second. It’s been half an hour already which isn’t too far from the mark, but the more seconds tick by the more anxious Louis finds himself, tapping his foot on the concrete of the club. 

Just like every other time they find themselves somewhere like this the flashing lights make him dizzy, unable to even see his own feet properly. The bass pounds in his ears to a pop song he’s heard on the radio before it switches to something more techno and then back again. 

He’s got on contacts instead of his glasses to appear more like the rest of the people here tonight, his shirt far too tight for his liking and his hair styled much like the pictures they’d found online. His eyes water and he rubs at them, uncomfortable, wishing he was anywhere but here. 

“Okay, we’re gonna spread out,” Liam shouts into the half-circle they’ve formed on the far side of the dance floor. “We’ll give it an hour. If he doesn’t show we head back. Sound good?” 

At each of their nods, Niall and Liam disperse, one toward the back entrance and the other toward the front. When their target arrives one of them will text Harry as the ‘signal’ and Louis will wait for him to take a seat at the bar before he approaches him. He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat. 

“Alright?” Harry nudges him, an eyebrow raised. 

“M’good,” Louis nods. 

Grinding his teeth, Harry runs his eyes over his face and narrows his gaze, reaching down between them to grab Louis’ hand. He pulls him out from the wall a bit until they’re standing at the very edge of the dance floor. 

“What are we doing?” Louis asks. 

“Dancing,” Harry supplies, hands dipping to wrap around Louis’ waist instead. “If you’re going to do this, you’ve gotta loosen up.” 

Before Louis can take offense to that, Harry gets impatient and grabs his forearms, tossing them up over his own shoulders until Louis’ straining on his tiptoes to keep up the embrace. 

“Uhm, like this?” he stutters. 

“Sort of,” tilting his head with a slight smirk, Harry lowers his hands even further, stopping just above the curve of Louis’ arse, and then he tugs him forward. Hard. 

“Oh,” Louis gasps. 

“Just like that,” Harry grins, much closer than he’d been before. 

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever danced with anyone before, but he certainly has never danced like  _ this. _ Harry’s hands are big and warm and radiating heat through his shirt into his skin, making him forget about the fact that he hates this outfit with a passion. He’s got too much skin showing and he can’t see right without his glasses, but when he glances up, Harry’s perfectly in focus. 

This close to him, Louis can hear his familiar heartbeat, can feel where his is rabbiting in his own chest. When the strobes pass over them again Louis closes his eyes and presses his cheek against him, slow dancing to a rap song. 

He laughs lightly at the idea. Only Harry would do this for him. Had it been anyone else they’d have gotten too impatient and probably flipped him around, switched up the pace and used him as a humping post. 

If he’s being  _ completely _ honest, he’d let Harry do that if he wanted to. 

Blushing, he tightens his arms and sways a bit more confidently, leaning into Harry’s hands to help him get into the rhythm. When he isn’t face to face with him it’s much easier to let himself go a bit more. 

It suddenly occurs to him that this is what Harry does with their targets normally. He furrows his brows against his chest as his movements falter and then pick up once more. The way Harry’s holding him now certainly doesn’t feel like just a friendly gesture or some kind of warmup. 

Desperate for reassurance and feeling safe in the dark corner, Louis takes a deep breath and glances up, meeting his eyes. The light passes over them several times and Louis blinks rapidly, but he can clearly see Harry returning his gaze. 

Hands slipping until they’re no longer clasped to themselves but to Harry’s shoulder blades instead, Louis sucks in an unsteady breath when Harry’s lips brush his forehead. He shudders and hopes Harry can’t feel it in his embrace. 

Louis isn’t sure when he first began feeling like  _ that _ about Harry, but he feels like he would be remiss to say anything else other than that he knew from the first moment he saw him. As cliche as it sounds, it’d been like something out of a fairytale. 

Harry’s his opposite in many ways and in his old life, someone like him would have never even given him the time of day. But, despite all of them being skeptical of Louis at first, Harry was never ignorant or rude. Slowly it became obvious that Louis liked him in a different way than the others, that he was just slightly biased. 

He’s raised up so much subconsciously that they’re practically breathing the same air, Harry’s parted lips only centimeters away from his own. If he were brave, he would close the distance. He’d run his fingers through Harry’s hair and pull him even closer, beg him to do all the things he’s fantasized about for so long. Tell him that he doesn’t always need to be treated so fragile. 

The idea doesn’t even seem all that far fetched. Louis already feels dissociated a bit from himself, stuffed into odd clothes with styled hair and absent lenses, like he’s someone else for the night. He wonders how many times Harry feels like he isn’t truly himself - if he gets tired of playing a different role every other week. It seems kind of sad when he thinks about it, but right now it’s giving Louis a burst of confidence. 

Harry’s feet step slightly off center and Louis falls into him, their lips brushing together for just the slightest moment. It feels like everything freezes, Louis’ hands gripping Harry’s shirt and Harry’s eyes widening, flicking between Louis’ and his lips. 

Before either of them can say anything or move out of each other’s space, the phone starts vibrating between them. Harry curses, digging it from the front pocket of his trousers, clicking over to Liam’s text once he’s typed in his passcode. 

“He’s here,” Harry grits. Going rigid again, Louis bites his lip and glances over toward the empty bar. Any second now. Harry grips his chin again and forces his eyes back. “You give me a signal if you need anything, alright? M’gonna be watching you the entire time. You’ve got this, yeah?” he rushes. 

“I - I can do it,” Louis nods at him. 

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath to prepare himself, blinking harshly, still unused to the feeling of contacts instead of his glasses. The next time he glances over, the man they profiled before is sliding into one of the bar seats and flagging down the waiter. Louis sucks in a breath, smooths a hand down his shirt, and detaches himself from Harry’s grip. 

“I’ll be right here,” Harry promises again, eyes never straying from Louis as he walks away, feeling his gaze burn the back of his head. 

With an imperceptible nod, he doesn’t allow himself to turn around again, relaxing his shoulders and approaching the bar. Just a few seats down from the target he leans over the counter suggestively and ignores the disgusted shiver that runs through him at the way he’s putting his body on display. 

While he places a random order to the bartender, Louis can feel the guy look over once, look away, and then look back at him again, running his filthy gaze over all of him before returning to his face. Just as he receives his order, Louis turns in his direction and offers a smile. 

“Look at you,” the guy mumbles under his breath, returning Louis’ smile with more of a sleazy smirk. He scoots the seat next to him backward and beckons Louis over. 

Slowly he sits, keeping the straw in his mouth so he won’t have to talk unless he’s directly spoken to. The man lands his palm high up on Louis’ thigh and he struggles not to openly wince. 

“What’s your name, baby?” 

Louis swallows down his bile. That sounds nothing like the way Harry usually says that to him. Now it sounds  _ dirty. _

“Lou,” he offers, simply because the second half of his name doesn’t leave his lips for how nervous he is. That’s fine, he reasons, he’d rather this guy not know his name anyway, even if he  _ is _ about to meet his own fate. 

“You’re very pretty, Lou,” the guy whispers, leaning forward so that his strong breath cascades down Louis’ neck. He shivers again. “Did you know that?” 

Shrugging noncommittally, the man mistakes him for being bashful and chuckles low in his throat when Louis squirms away from the feeling of his thumb sliding across his collarbone. On instinct, Louis glances around the room until he runs across Liam and Harry again, then turns back to the man. 

“You got a boyfriend or something?” The man asks him, eyes dancing between Louis and somewhere else on the dance floor. 

“No, why?” Louis breathes, his foot beginning to tap nervously underneath the bar. 

The man’s head nods once in the direction of the corner and Louis glances over. Harry’s leaned up against the wall, probably trying for casual, his stony glare focused just a bit too close to where they’re sitting. 

“Never seen him in my life,” Louis shrugs. He tries to keep the nervous lilt from messing up his speech. Licking over his lips, he leans forward so that he’s blocking Harry from the man’s view. “Did you want another drink?” 

“Of course,” he smiles but it looks more like a grimace, stained teeth glinting under the fluorescent lights. He doesn’t even comment on the fact that he hadn’t finished the first one yet. 

Grabbing the glass from his hand, Louis takes it over to the other side of the bar and tries to wave down the worker, his heartbeat rabbiting in his chest. How does Harry  _ do _ this? And, more than that, how does he expect  _ Louis _ to do it if he’s glaring at them the entire time? 

He stumbles out the order once more and checks over his shoulder to make sure Liam’s in place, blowing out a breath when Harry’s no longer standing where he was. Though he’d been complaining about it before, Louis can’t shake the anxiousness that swirls in his stomach when he realizes he’s alone now. 

The drink sloshes when Louis picks it up from the counter too harshly, bringing it back to the man. Before he can set it down properly, stubby fingers are wrapping around his wrist and stopping him from moving, half-lidded eyes meeting Louis’ in the low light. 

“Let’s cut to the chase, yeah?” he hums. “I’m a busy man and I don’t have time to take you back to where I’m staying. What would you say to accompanying me  _ elsewhere _ for a few minutes?” 

Though it’s a question, there doesn’t seem to be much room for argument. He’s already standing, dragging Louis with him as he heads for the secluded hallway off the dancefloor. Panicking, Louis looks up in time to catch the neon bathroom sign, his eyes widening and pulse going fast when he realizes they’re supposed to be going in the opposite direction. 

“The bathroom?” Louis asks hesitantly, “Maybe we should go somewhere a bit - cleaner,” he suggests, fighting against the man’s hold. 

“Where else would you suggest?” The man scoffs, his grip still burning tight on his arm. 

“Uhm, maybe the alley? Some fresh air?” Louis tries. “I didn’t see anyone out there earlier.” 

He feels like it’s too much information but it seems to work, and the man pauses for a moment to think about it before he narrows his eyes, huffs, and turns them around without letting go of him. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “whatever.” 

Dizzy as they navigate back through the blinking neon lights, Louis’ practically jogging at this point. He stumbles over people’s feet in his hurry and scrambles to apologize but it’s no use, his voice strained and quiet and unable to be heard over the volume of the music. 

When they pass by the bar stools again though, Louis can’t keep up anymore. He yelps when his foot gets caught around the corner of the bar, his body falling forward into the guy’s back. His ankle smarts at him so much that he abruptly feels like crying, but he tries to keep it inside when the guy grunts and pulls on his arm even harder. 

Throwing open the back door, the man drags him out into the open air of the alleyway and shoves him against the wall, grabby hands already pulling at the band of his tight trousers. The noise of a gun clicking breaks his focus, and the sleazy guy turns to look over his shoulder, face to face with Harry and Liam, Niall’s tires screeching to a halt at the end of the alley to block off all the exits. 

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” he grits. 

Biting his lip to keep from whimpering at the pain in his foot, Louis takes it upon himself to hobble away from him while he’s distracted, making his way to the car while Harry and Liam corner their target. He does his best to hurry, not wanting to hear whatever’s about to happen. 

He makes it into the car just in time for the gunshot to go off somewhere behind him, sighing and slumping his shoulders against the seat just as the door shuts and silence rings out once again. 

“You okay, bud? You hurt at all?” Niall turns to ask him, glancing between the alley and Louis’ pained expression. 

“Just my ankle, a bit,” he murmurs softly, trying to position it in a way that doesn’t send shockwaves of prickling pain up through his leg. 

“Haz can wrap that for you when we get back,” he says. “Here, prop it up on the seat and try not to move it too much.” 

Hissing at the movement, Louis does as he’s told and swings his legs up to rest across the back seats, leaning his back against the door and window. It’s gone silent now so he assumes they’re finishing up. He closes his eyes and rolls his lips together. 

Only a minute later the door opposite him swings open again and Harry steps into the back just as Liam buckles in up front. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. He quickly pockets his gun and hands the money they’d retrieved to Liam for the moment, his concerned brow falling to take in Louis’ ankle. If they hadn’t already, Louis would say Harry looks like he would’ve killed the man. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea,” he grumbles. “Dirty old bastard trying to put his hands on you, didn’t even notice you were hurt-” 

“H, it’s fine,” Louis rushes. “C’mon, get in the car. You can fix me up at the hotel.” 

It’s only making him more anxious to be waiting around at the scene of the crime so he reaches a hand out for Harry to take, lifting up his ankle slowly to let him sit underneath it, then resting it in his lap. 

“Right when we get back,” he repeats firmly, heavy eyes focused on Louis’ face like a promise. 

Despite the pain radiating up his leg, Louis can’t help the way he smiles just a bit at his concern. Harry’s the one who’s just been in a life or death situation and yet he seems perfectly fine, only concerned about Louis’ minor ankle sprain. The irony isn’t lost on him, but it is admittedly nice to be worried about. 

With his warm fingers massaging the skin of his ankle, Louis leans his head back against the cool window behind him and sighs, picturing an alternate ending, one where there was no mission at all. One where he and Harry got to finish dancing together. Something much more glamorous and romantic than wrapping a hurt foot. 

But then Harry helps him out of the car with an arm around his waist, a reassuring smile on his lips as he carries most of his weight, and Louis thinks this is fine, too. 

+

Much to his dismay, Louis’ up by ten the next morning. The days after hits he usually likes to sleep in as much as possible but Harry seemed to have other plans. 

He’d woken up to him scrolling through his phone next to him in bed which, oddly enough, isn’t a completely unexpected occurrence. The medicine he’d taken before bed last night for the pain is still in his system, keeping his ankle from smarting too much when he shifts, raises his arms above his head, and yawns. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Harry grins, setting his phone down on the nightstand. “Sleep well?” 

“Like a rock,” Louis nods into the pillow. 

“Well, it’s time to get up, so,” Harry pats his arse through the sheets and Louis jumps, blinking his eyes open against the light coming through the hotel curtains. 

“Why? Today’s an off-day,” he complains half-heartedly, already moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“First of all,” Harry raises a brow, “you don’t take off-days. And second of all, we’re going down to the gym.” 

Louis freezes where he’s just stumbled into the bathroom, a toothbrush in his hand and his mouth full of toothpaste. “The gym?” he garbles. 

“Yes. Now hurry up,” Harry calls, already near the door. 

Frantically rinsing and pulling on a different shirt at the same time, he spits into the sink and runs a hand through his hair to tame it before they walk out. He’s careful when he slips on some of his looser shoes, not tying them too tightly around the front to avoid the ache from his ankle. 

Harry grabs the key from the counter and shuts the door behind them, helping him down the hallway to the lift on instinct. It’s early enough that everyone’s still eating breakfast in the buffet but no one’s in the other halls when they get to the lobby, the gym equally empty when they approach. Harry pulls out the key card again to let them in. 

“Why are we at the gym?” Louis asks again. 

“I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself.” 

“I promise I’m fine,” he sighs. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore, I swear,” Louis limps through the door while Harry holds it. 

“I mean it,” Harry insists, fully ignoring his attempt to brush it off. “I’m not letting that happen again. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of doing this before.” 

“H, it’s not like it was your fault,” Louis says quietly, more serious this time. He isn’t just joking now - Louis can tell that he actually feels guilty for what happened to him. He steps forward in a moment of bravery and puts a hand on his arm, waiting until Harry turns to look at him even as a blush rises on his cheeks. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” 

Harry stares at him, unblinking, for a solid five seconds before he nods very slowly. “I know,” he says, “but I would feel a lot better if you let me do this for you.” 

Damnit. Louis can’t resist  _ that.  _ Even if the very real possibility that his body will be aching for days after this rings true. He doesn’t do much cardio. 

With a sigh, he steps forward once more and seals his own fate, offering a hand for Harry to shake in agreement. It’s the only thing that finally manages to get a small smile on his face, lips twitching as he meets Louis’ eye. 

“Let’s do this,” Louis huffs, fighting off his own grin at seeing Harry happy. 

“Alright, c’mon,” he says. He leads Louis over to an empty area in the corner of the hotel gym, secluded from the other machines. “We’re gonna start easy for today.” 

“Easy for you or easy for me?” Louis mutters. 

“Watch the attitude, please,” Harry quips, “I’m literally about to let you beat me up.” 

Smirking at him, Louis lets himself be arranged accordingly, always pliant when Harry plants his hands on his hips like that. The cockiness falls off of him and he clears his throat instead, waiting until he lets go to breathe properly again. Once he’s in the right position Harry backs up again, facing him. 

“Do I just… punch you?” 

“No!” Harry laughs once, nervously, and begins to explain. “This is the hammer strike, okay?” He reaches out for Louis’ right hand and balls it into a fist, bending his elbow back and then walking him through the movement in slow motion; reeling backward and then striking forward, hitting Harry right in the forehead. “Ideally, you’d have your keys or something sharp in your hand, but even if it’s just your fist it should shock them for a moment if you have to use it. Now try it again.” 

Louis keeps his fist tight and runs through it a few more times, practicing with hitting different areas like his neck and chest instead while Harry explains what would happen with each one. 

As stupid as he felt about reenacting this stuff before, he figures there’s no one else in the gym to see him do it anyway, and he already feels just the slightest bit better about his safety while doing so. Like Harry said, it might not save him from just anything, but it could definitely buy him some time if he needed it. 

“Ready for the next one?” Harry raises a brow. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. Nodding, Louis lowers his hand back to his side and flexes his fingers near his hip. 

“Okay, this one’s kind of similar but I think it’s a bit more useful than the last one. It’s called the heel-palm strike,” he picks up Louis’ wrist again, his fingers warm with the blood rushing through them from the exercises. “With this one, you want to aim for the nose and throat for it to be most effective. Flex your wrist,” he instructs. 

Following orders, Louis opens his hand until his palm is open and his fingers are spread. Harry raises his hand in a forward motion to his throat just underneath his chin and imitates how Louis should aim. Then he shifts and they start over, this time showing him how he would strike if he was aiming for the nose, throwing his head back dramatically when Louis lands his faux-blow. 

“I think I’ve got it,” Louis nods, chuckling lightly at his antics. 

“If you feel like you need to, you can always strike twice with both hands,” Harry says, “once on the throat and then to the nose.” 

“Like this?” 

Louis gets back into his stance and lifts his hands, striking him softly once on the neck and then again under his nose. Eyes widening, Harry side-steps him just in time and takes hold of both of his wrists with one hand. 

“Someone’s confident,” he teases. “Let’s not  _ actually _ attack me, m’kay?” 

“No promises,” Louis taunts, Harry’s laughter echoing in the empty gym around them. “Is that it?” 

“For today, yeah. The others are a bit more in-depth so we’ll save them for another time.” 

“Can’t wait,” he quips, half sarcastically and half completely serious. “Are you going to finish your workout now or later?” 

Louis knows Harry spends hours working out each day with the guys but he’d prefer not to be here for it, the monotonous routines making him tired. Even if Harry’s muscles are a nice perk. 

“I’ll finish it later,” he says. Harry grabs the few things they’d brought and returns to Louis’ side, wrapping an arm around his waist for the walk back. Louis keeps his gaze low to hide his flush. “I’m glad we did this. I think you’ll be tiny and dangerous in no time.” 

“Tiny?” Louis squawks, slapping a hand to his chest in offense. 

“And  _ dangerous, _ ” Harry murmurs seriously. 

“I hate you,” Louis grits at him, turning out of his hold and crossing his arms. 

In response, Harry simply bends and picks him up under his back and behind his knees, lifting him into the air and holding him into his chest as they walk back to the lift. Gasping, Louis throws his arms around his neck with a squeak. 

“You don’t hate me,” Harry murmurs against the side of his neck, reaching forward to press the button with the hand that’s underneath Louis’ knees. “You love me,” he finishes, a bright grin settled between his dimples. 

“I-” he tries to argue but nothing comes out. “Yeah, I suppose I do,” Louis whispers. 

He finally relaxes in Harry’s hold and accepts the comfort and relief from walking on his foot where the pain medication is beginning to fade. Louis lets himself be carried all the way back to the room and deposited onto the bed as Harry kicks the door shut behind them, crawling back under the covers to cuddle until Liam and Niall are up. 

“C’mon,” he lifts the sheets invitingly. 

Louis sighs and removes his shoes, climbing back up to lay next to him. One of these days, he thinks, maybe he’ll be brave enough. 

+

Almost two weeks pass until they’re able to line up another job. They’re not running thin on money but still it makes Louis anxious to wait or stay in one place for too long, constantly looking over his shoulder. Life moves fast, and Louis prefers to stay ahead of any curveballs it decides to throw their way. 

His ankle is healed for the most part, but sometimes it still hurts if he sleeps on it wrong during the night. Still, Harry always lets him prop it up in his lap on the car rides. 

Especially this one, because it’s a bit farther from the hotel than they usually plan it. Louis hadn’t wanted to make unnecessary arrangements though or spend extra money, so they’d just agreed to make the drive regardless. With his foot propped and Harry’s nimble fingers massaging his calves, Louis can’t say that he minds too much. 

He’s already dozed off once by the time they arrive, an old gas station at the corner of a quiet town outside of the nearest city. Their target thinks they’re purchasing an assortment of illegal substances from them, but all they’ll really be getting is a healthy dose of karma. 

Niall swings into a parking lot across the street to check through their things, making sure everyone has what they need to protect themselves. In the passenger seat, Liam wraps his fists with athletic tape to protect his knuckles. Harry’s preparation isn’t as visible, but Louis knows he’s doing his own mental gymnastics to psych himself up for the hit. He’s got an important job after all, the talking. Keeping their target calm enough to believe he’s really making a deal, giving Liam and Niall just enough time to sort everything else out and take him down. Louis could never do that. 

“You guys ready to go?” Niall asks them, glancing toward Liam and then Harry in the rear view. 

“Ready,” Liam says, testing the strength of the tape with a flex of his fists. 

“Ready,” Harry echoes. 

Carefully Louis removes his ankle from Harry’s lap and sits up straight, adrenaline beginning to swirl in his tummy as Niall pulls closer to the building. This is always his least favorite part. 

But Harry seems confident as always, as do Liam and Niall, so Louis inhales deeply, holds it for a moment, and exhales again, leaning his head back against the seat. Soon enough they’re parking again behind some trees but still in view of the entrance of the place, secured with a padlock that it hadn’t been all that difficult to find the code for. People are exceptionally stupid when they’re searching for cheap thrills, Louis’ come to find out. 

“Be careful,” he tells them, grabbing Harry’s arm to make him listen as he slides out of the backseat. 

“Always,” Harry promises, shooting him a private smile. Louis watches as he switches from Harry to Harry Styles, the best actor he’s ever known. Except when he’s with Louis. 

He and Liam cross the parking lot silently as the trees around them sway with the light wind, and Louis zones out to the tune of Niall drumming on the steering wheel. He leans forward on the edge of the middle seat to see out the front, resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder. 

“Two-forty,” Niall sighs, making note of the time just as Liam manages to get the lock open, he and Harry disappearing inside with a quick look behind them. 

The ten-minute rule is one they all swear by. Unless it’s a special circumstance, it should only take them roughly that long to get in and out from the time they get inside. Louis’ plans are usually fool proof, providing them all of the info they’ll need to know exactly what to do while cutting their mission time in half. Five minutes to scope out, identify, and engage, and five to get them into the right spot and do what needs to be done. 

“Two-forty-five,” Louis mutters back moments later, eyes flicking from the digital clock to the closed door of the old petrol station. 

If they aren’t back by then, that’s usually when Niall goes in after them. It’s rare that that happens, but Louis never rules it off of the list of possibilities. In this job, all of them are kept on their toes at all times. 

The clock flickers twice more, forty-six and forty-seven, and Louis gulps, readjusting to get a better view. There’s no one here but them and their target, so it really shouldn’t even take the full ten minutes this time. 

“Two-fifty,” Niall says. “I’m going in.” 

Not bothering to ask first, Louis scoots to the far seat and opens his door as well, staying quiet and close behind Niall as they walk toward the entrance. Niall’s gun is already drawn, held low by his hip so he doesn’t draw unnecessary attention to it if anyone were to see them. 

They pause at the door, listening for anything inside. Liam and Harry’s voices are heard clearly, but there’s no other noise. Brow furrowing, Niall pushes inside with his shoulder and pockets his gun, Louis following him in. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing between both of them. 

Louis gasps when they step further inside. Harry and Liam are fine, and the station is empty save for trash, a few beer bottles, and some of the old shelves littered around the room with dirt and decay layered on thick. 

And then, right in front of them, is their target. Already dead, and not from them. 

“What the hell?” Niall mutters. 

“We checked around, the place is empty. Whoever did it’s already gone,” Liam explains. 

“Who would’ve gotten to him first?” Harry whispers, brows furrowed as he leans forward to get a better look at the body. “You think it was an inside job? Someone he worked with underground?” 

“Maybe,” shrugging, Niall shakes his head quickly. “Doesn’t matter right now. We’ve gotta get out of here. Who knows how long he’s been there, someone’s bound to find him soon and we don’t wanna be here when they do.” 

“The blood’s fresh,” Liam insists. He frowns and his eyes narrow, gaze locked on the wound near the guy’s neck. Something’s up, Louis can tell, but before he can ask what it is he’s being shifted backward by several hands. 

“ _ C’mon, _ ” Niall hisses, tugging them toward the car. “We’ve gotta get out of here before someone sees us.” 

Louis stumbles over his own feet trying to keep up with him, Harry’s hand warm and solid on his back behind him, but Liam doesn’t follow. He’s still standing still when Louis glances back over his shoulder, another figure appearing near the opposite entrance, coming from behind one of the shelves to leave a thick stack of money on the counter and obviously trying to keep quiet. 

“Zayn?” Liam whispers. Everyone stops their movements, all eyes turning to face the man a few feet away from them. 

Louis watches several different emotions pass through the stranger’s eyes, panic, brief flickering sadness before it morphs into practiced anger. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” 

“What do you mean, what are we doing here?” Niall snaps, recovering from his shock, wrapping a protective hand around Liam’s arm as if to pull him back, away from Zayn, “Why are  _ you _ here?” 

For a few seconds it seems like Zayn is thinking it over but then his mouth snaps shut again. “I don’t have time for this today,” he sighs. 

Harry’s hand on Louis’ hip squeezes and Louis leans into it subconsciously, wishing he weren’t here for -  _ whatever _ this is. He doesn’t know much about Zayn but it’s so quiet in here that it’s making him uncomfortable, still slightly nauseous from everything he’s seen. The moment draws on, Liam, Zayn, and the body between them on the floor as they stare each other down. 

Liam is the only one who doesn’t seem content to let it go, his eyes lingering on Zayn for a beat too long. “You said you needed to stop doing this,” he says. “You promised me you would tell me if you ever wanted to come back.” 

“Liam -” 

As if having heard enough, Liam promptly turns and walks back toward the car. It’s the first time he’s seen true emotion on Zayn’s face since he first saw him, and it’s the only time he’s ever seen Liam walk away from someone without a polite goodbye. 

Harry’s the one who walks forward to grab the money, turning back to resume his position by Louis’ side and help him toward the exit. 

Does this mean that Zayn was the reason that they’d missed their target? Had he somehow known they would be here or was it unrelated? Louis’ heart stutters in his chest, nervous that Zayn might hold some kind of resentment for them and may be in search of revenge somehow. This isn’t a threat he’d ever accounted for. 

One by one, the rest of them turn as well, until Louis’ the only one left facing him. Zayn’s eyes meet his, still hard and cold unlike they’d been when he looked at Liam, before he turns and walks away too, in the opposite direction. 

“Lou, c’mon,” Harry says, tugging lightly at his arm. 

When Zayn’s no longer in view, Louis finally turns and follows him outside. It’s silent as they make quick work of getting to the car and locking the doors, Niall checking the mirrors obsessively before he throws the car into drive and swerves out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. 

“Li-” Niall starts, tense. 

“Don’t.” 

Liam’s voice is final and deeper than Louis’ ever heard it before. He inhales sharply and glances up at Harry who gives him a timid smile.  _ He’ll be okay, _ it says. Louis wonders if he really will. Clearly there’s more to the story than any of them have told him, and unlike the other times, Louis wants to know what happened. 

Now is clearly not the time to ask though, Liam’s face red with emotion as his fists clench and unclench in his lap. He’s focused out the window and away from the rest of them, deep breaths fogging up the glass with how close he is to it. 

Settling further into Harry’s side in the back seat, he doesn’t say a word as they drive back to the hotel. He’d known this hit would be different for some reason, but he certainly hadn’t expected Zayn to be there, elusive and mysterious and nothing like Louis’d pictured him. An unsettling feeling blooms in his tummy. 

Harry still gives him that same reassuring smile, but it isn’t as bright as it usually is. Liam’s still silent and even Niall seems frustrated and slightly anxious, his gaze sliding to the rest of them every few seconds. 

Louis’ curiosity grows along with his unease. He wonders if everyone else can feel what he’s feeling right now - an awful feeling that something bad is about to catch up with them. 

+

“Alright,” Harry makes a show of clapping his hands together, “you ready to start?” 

They’re at a different hotel this time but the gym looks pretty much the same as that one and every other one Louis’ seen, all generic and grey. Harry stands in front of him in his shorts and a Nike sweatshirt, the top half of his hair pulled up into a small ponytail on top of his head, jumping from foot to foot. He’s entirely too enthusiastic for how early in the morning it is. 

“Whatever,” Louis grumbles, rubbing his knuckle over his eye and stifling a yawn. “Let’s do this.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Harry mocks. 

Tossing him a glare, Louis tightens his shoelace and then stands straight again, his stomach grumbling.  _ Someone _ said it was a better idea to eat afterwards rather than before, but Louis has yet to see the benefits he promised. 

“Where do you want me?” Louis sighs. 

Just for a second Harry freezes, then clears his throat and promptly turns away, gathering his thoughts again. When he turns, Louis swears there’s a blush on his cheeks. He’s too tired to convince himself otherwise, and accepts the small smile that makes its way onto his face in reaction. 

“Okay, this one is in case someone approaches you from behind,” Harry tells him. He steps around Louis until he’s no longer in sight, Louis left blinking at the ground in front of him. Then there are hands on his back, his waist, sliding around to the front, over his tummy and locking there. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he immediately feels more awake. Between that second and the next he doesn’t have any time to react properly, Harry’s body molding completely to his back until there isn’t any space left. Twice he flexes his arms around Louis’ waist to make sure he can’t get away. He’s so close Louis can feel the hitch in the breath on his neck. 

“What’s - what do I do,” he prompts breathily. 

As if remembering that they are, in fact, practicing self defense and not just cuddling each other in the middle of the hotel gym, Harry snaps into action. 

“You’re - you’ll want to, uhm, bend at the waist,” he says. “That’ll make it more difficult for someone to pick you up.” Still too tired to be too nervous about it, Louis puts very little thought into it before he’s bending over, his gaze landing abruptly on his feet. Only then does he feel how  _ intimate _ the position is, and then he’s blushing so hard that he can feel his face heat up. “Okay, now you’ll want to start throwing your elbows back at my face, one and then the other. Just alternate them until you’re completely free.” 

Harry’s voice is as strangled as Louis thinks his might be if he felt like he could talk, but he does his best to follow the mumbled instructions. Freeing his arms, he twists his upper body slowly and pretends to throw an elbow into Harry’s cheek. Then he twists the opposite direction and does the same, alternating like he said until Harry’s grip around his hips loosens and he stumbles away. 

“Like that?” Louis asks. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect,” Harry nods, “and then once you’re free you can either try to attack again or you can run. You wanna run through it one more time?” 

At Louis’ nod they get back into position. This time when Harry approaches him from behind it’s much more abrupt, catching Louis off guard as he scrambles to remember his instructions.  _ Bend over, elbow left, elbow right, _ he thinks. 

By the time he frees himself a second time he’s feeling very confident. The slightest bit out of breath, he stands with his hands on his hips as Harry nods approvingly in his direction. 

“You’re getting better at these,” he compliments. 

“What’s next? I think I’m awake now,” Louis says, blinking hard and stretching his arms above his head. “Attack me.” 

Choking on his own saliva, Harry manages a small pained laugh and sets to work explaining the next one. Louis grins again. 

“This one’s for a headlock. C’mere,” he beckons. 

As soon as he’s within close distance, Harry doesn’t warn him. He grabs Louis by the arm and tugs him off balance, twisting him around and locking Louis’ head into his arm by his waist. 

“Woah,” Louis coughs, his hands flailing out beside him awkwardly. 

“Your first instinct should be to avoid getting choked,” Harry tells him. Louis blushes again.  _ Focus, _ he wills himself. “Turn your head into my side as far as you can. You’ll feel the hold loosen.” 

Chin dipping sideways, Louis shifts until his nose is buried in the material of Harry’s shirt near his hip, inhaling as subtly as he can the scent of his sweet cologne. That’s all he gets before he forces himself back into the moment, blinking rapidly and still unsure of what to do with his hands. 

“Now, ideally, you would start punching me in the crotch,” Harry mutters. Louis lifts a hand in that direction. “ _ But, _ ” he rushes, “we’ll just pretend, alright?” 

Hiding his goofy smile in Harry’s side, Louis ‘pretends’ to hit him without actually touching him and Harry’s hold loosens enough for him to free his head and stumble backward. Once he’s far enough behind him he straightens again and waits for what’s next. 

“And then I’d run away again?” 

“You’d run away again,” Harry echoes, nodding. “I would most likely still be on the floor right now if we’d done it for real.” 

Snorting, Louis pictures that in his head. 

“Can we get breakfast now?” 

“You can, if you want,” Harry turns away from him and heads over to one of the machines, powering it on and tightening his hair on top of his head. “I’m gonna finish working out.” 

Groaning, Louis collapses onto one of the benches dramatically and settles in to wait. He hates that he can see Harry smirking from here. 

“Just hurry up,” he hisses toward Harry, slipping his glasses back onto his face. 

For a few minutes he just allows his breathing to calm again from the short workout, his body much more alert now that he’s no longer tired from lack of sleep. He scrolls on his phone and thinks about what he’s going to get for breakfast from the buffet. 

When he eventually gets bored of that, he glances up again to find Harry stepping off of the treadmill, walking over to the weights in the far corner. Picking up his things, Louis plops down on the floor in front of him and sits with his legs criss-crossed, leaning back on his hands. Harry lifts the weights above his head and parts his lips, his forehead creasing amusedly. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Will you tell me about Zayn?” Louis asks. 

He’s been curious for a long time now and the recent events have him thinking even harder about it, wondering what he doesn’t know that might make a difference if he did. That’s Louis’  _ thing _ \- knowing things. As of right now, Zayn seems like a threat to that. 

Tilting his head, Harry thinks about it for a moment to himself. Then he lowers the weights and exchanges them for a different pair, resuming his workout as he begins to talk. 

“Zayn was never like us,” Harry says. “We could go on missions and be done with them and that would be that. But Zayn always - he always let it get to him. Everything was like a personal attack. He couldn’t just let it go when we were finished.” 

Louis nods slowly. His skin crawls with how familiar that sounds to himself, wondering just how much they really have in common. He wraps his hands around his knees and leans closer as he continues. 

“Liam tried so many times to get him to stop letting it overwhelm him but it just didn’t work. Then, one day, we all woke up and Zayn was gone. No trace of him left, his phone disconnected. We had no way to contact him. Li tried for a while, but…” Harry trails off, shrugging although Louis can tell it hurt him too. “Li says Zayn told him a few times that he needed to just stop all of this. Quit and go live somewhere secluded, far away. That’s why he was so shocked to see him the other day, doing this kind of thing again.” 

He thinks he might be equally as angry if Harry did the same thing to him. It seems like Liam and Zayn were close, even if no one knows the full details of that, and his feelings would certainly be hurt if he’d been in that position. 

There’s still an inkling feeling that there’s more to it but he leaves it alone, thankful for the shift in the air when Harry begins putting things away and getting ready to go back upstairs. He fills up a cup of the complimentary water from the gym and promptly downs it, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then heads for the door with Louis in front him. 

Once they’re in the lift he relaxes against the wall, letting Harry press the button for their floor. 

“What’re you doing the rest of the day?” Harry asks him, moving to lean up against the same wall Louis’ on. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Louis snorts. “You?” 

He swings his head sideways to look at Harry lazily, faltering when he realizes how close he actually is. He can see the sweat on Harry’s flushed skin, the way his lips are still parted with his quickened breathing. Louis clears his throat and glances back down again. 

“M’gonna shower, get into some clean clothes,” Harry lists. “Then I’ll probably just chill in the room if that’s alright with you. Maybe we can order room service later, watch a movie or something. Have a cuddle.” 

“Sounds good to me. So long as you shower before the cuddling.” 

“Excuse you,” Harry grins, “you afraid of a little sweat?” 

“Afraid?” Louis mocks, “Never. I’m very dangerous, remember?” 

“C’mere, then.” 

Harry traps him in his arms, sweat and heat soaking into his clothes just as the doors slide open onto their floor. He lifts Louis with the grip he has around his arms and chest, his feet dangling above the floor. 

“Harry,” he whines loudly, frowning, “I’m gonna have to shower now too.” 

“I’m not  _ that _ sweaty,” he argues, using one of his hands to unlock the door and keeping Louis up with the other. 

“You  _ reek. _ ” 

Harry drops him the short distance to the ground and scoffs, “Rude. If you need the shower so bad you go first, I’ll take mine after,” he grumbles, heading over to his suitcase. 

“Oh, are you sure? It’s really not that-” Louis turns to make sure it’s really alright but freezes when Harry’s shirt is already on the floor, his slacks following soon after. Harry’s got his hands behind his head, his body on full display as he stands in front of the AC. Like some kind of lewd online ad, he glances over his shoulder, the fan blowing his curls around his face with his bare torso on display.  _ Don’t look down, _ Louis pleads with himself. 

“You go ahead,” Harry nods, turning back. 

Shaking himself out of his haze, Louis swallows to moisten his dry throat and forces himself to turn away and head into the bathroom so he won’t make a fool of himself. He’s got to get over this - this  _ crush _ he’s got. Harry’s so far out of his league and letting himself have this fantasy is taking too much of a toll on him, especially with these lessons. 

So he flips the shower on and undresses, refuses to look himself in the eye in the floor length, fancy hotel mirror, and makes an attempt to get the crush out of his system just a bit faster. In the end, with an aching wrist and a rapidly beating heart, it only really makes things worse. 

+

After his shower he’d changed into fresh, comfy clothes and lounged around in the room until Harry got out of the bathroom as well. Luckily this time he emerges fully clothed, and the sight of his hair wrapped up all pristine in the towel makes him giggle. 

“What do you think you’re laughing at?” Harry asks him, grinning as he bends forward and shakes it out, running his hands through his curls as he towel-dries the wetter spots. Then he flips it back and it falls around his face again and Louis’ laughter fades. 

He’d already begun to outline their next target a few days prior and shared the document with the rest of them which usually saves him time to do whatever he likes, but just as he and Harry are deciding on what movie to rent Liam calls them to their room. 

Louis jumps up onto the bed after Harry responds to the text, wrapping himself around Harry’s back for a ride across the hall. It makes them both laugh when he flicks Harry’s ear and he feigns dropping Louis before holding him even tighter, but the light mood fades when they open the door and see Liam and Niall’s serious faces. 

“What’s up?” Harry asks cautiously, letting Louis slide off of him onto the sofa, then stepping down to the floor. 

Niall sighs. “I was just trying to talk to Liam about, y’know, maybe letting Zayn come back.” 

“What?” Harry rushes, his still wet hair dripping onto the carpet. 

“I know, it’s not like I’m his biggest fan either,” Niall says, “but I think it might be a good idea, especially if he’s doing this kind of thing again.” 

“He obviously doesn’t want to come back if he didn’t tell me -  _ us, _ ” Liam spits, correcting himself. “We should leave him alone.” 

Keeping his own mouth sealed shut, Louis glances between all of them to try to gauge what they’re thinking. Harry seems hesitant but optimistic, his arms crossed but his eyes fully open, head tilted to one side. Niall just seems tired, like he’s been arguing with Liam over it for much longer. 

And Liam - Liam just looks angry. Louis’ never seen him like this before, all touchy and defensive and rude. He decides he doesn’t like it very much. This is nothing like the cuddly sweet person he usually is. His curiosity and slight distaste for Zayn grows as Niall continues. 

“Look, I know you’re bitter. But the fact here is that Zayn has talent,” Niall says. “He can do by himself what all of us can do combined. If we let him come back, he could add a lot to the team. Don’t we want him on our side if we know what he’s capable of?” 

“That’s if he  _ wants _ to come back,” Harry adds thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Liam mutters, “he certainly enjoys his independence.” 

Glancing between all of them again, Louis tries to work up the courage to speak. He’s not involved in this situation, not really, except that he is now because he’s a part of the group. He doesn’t know the history but he thinks he deserves to have his input on the future. 

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” he says quietly. 

They all turn in his direction, Harry and Niall with hopeful eyes and Liam with a glare. Louis cowers and clears his throat. 

“You realize he used to do  _ your _ job, right?” he directs toward Louis. 

“Watch it, Liam,” Harry snaps. “He did our jobs too. It’s not a competition.” His jaw tenses and then settles, exhaling through his nose. “You need to get over whatever petty shit you’ve got going here and text him. You’re the only one he’ll respond to.” 

The moment after is tense and Louis hates every bit of it, Harry and Liam caught staring at each other until one of them surrenders. He doesn’t know Zayn, not really, but from what Harry’s told him it seems like he and Louis might be more similar than he thought. For that, Louis feels like he should at least try to stick up for him. 

“Fine,” Liam says, blowing out a breath. “Fine, I will. Sorry, Louis.” 

“It’s okay,” Louis shakes his head. “I hope everything works out.” 

He hopes Liam knows that he means both with the team situation but also with him personally. There’s obviously a history between him and Zayn and if Liam’s happy they’re all happy. If Zayn can play a part in that, Louis’ all for it. 

Liam nods once at him, forcing a small smile as best he can. The air seems to ease some, Niall flicking the television on in the background and opening up the mini fridge to find something to eat. Liam turns back to his phone and curls in on himself, going private and stoic once again. 

He’s left with Harry, glancing back at him with a raised brow. 

_ Movie? _ he mouths. 

Harry nods gratefully and they don’t waste any time sticking around, hurrying back across the hall to resume their plans for the afternoon. Already in his pajamas, Louis slides under the cool sheets as Harry grabs the room service menu and the remote and meets him there. 

“What do you think?” he murmurs, tossing an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Titanic?” 

They’ve watched Titanic over a hundred times now because for some reason it plays at  _ every _ hotel they’ve ever been to, but Louis can’t even bring himself to complain. He settles into Harry’s side and glances over the menu. 

“Sounds good to me. Maybe we could get the clams or something to go with it. Keep the theme going.” 

“You know what they say about clams,” Harry smirks suggestively, wiggling his brows. “They’re quite the aphrodisiac. You trying to recreate the car scene?” 

“If you aren’t careful I’ll push you off this lifeboat right now,” Louis threatens despite the fact that his cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

“That’s quite a threat to make to someone who’s about to buy you an expensive dinner,” Harry counters. 

He shifts sideways and stands again, picking up the phone to dial the number on the menu and place their order on the built in desk near the door. 

“Get me a slice of the chocolate cake for dessert and I’ll think about playing nice.” 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, “Gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” 

The hotel pillow collides with the side of Harry’s face just as the room service picks up. Louis scowls to hide his grin and adjusts the sheets around him, smirking to himself when Harry adds on his chocolate cake at the end. He picks up the remote and presses  _ Rent Now, _ clicking play just as Harry crawls back beside him. 

One of these days maybe he’ll have the courage to admit that he  _ does _ want to recreate something like the car scene from  _ Titanic. _ But Louis’ realistic, and just like the movie, he can’t really visualize a happy ending for them the way he wants. Getting into anything romantic with Harry would only mean exacerbating his worry times a thousand. 

The opening sequence shows on the screen and Louis sighs, crossing his ankles underneath the duvet. He’s seen this so much that he knows nearly every line now, but watching it with Harry - somehow it always seems like the first time. 

+

Harry’s lessons have gotten  _ intense. _

They aren’t the quick upper body exercises they’d started out with anymore. When he tells Louis to meet him in the gym it means a full body workout, complete with self defense moves that require him using both his brain and his muscles, and Louis won’t pretend it doesn’t take a lot out of him. Usually though, the rush of confidence he gets afterward (and all of the time with Harry) makes it perfectly worth it. 

Each time they practice, Harry makes them run through each of the moves he’s already learned. Louis’ nearly nailed the escape from a headlock, and he’s absolutely perfected the art of the heel-palm strike, if he says so himself. He enjoys the rush he gets when Harry actually flinches as they practice. 

Today Harry hadn’t forced him awake, luckily. Louis slept in and had a hearty breakfast and now it’s half past two, feeling well-rested and well-fed and ready to run through everything once more. 

As per usual, the strike moves go smoothly and the full body ones not so much, but Harry tells him it’s clear he’s beginning to get the hang of it. Louis smiles despite his slight disappointment and settles his feet a shoulder length apart again, ready for something new to learn. 

“Alright,” Harry begins. “This one’s a bit like the one I taught you last time when I had you blocked from behind, but this time we’ll practice it when you aren’t able to use your hands.” 

“Is it that much different?” Louis wonders. 

“Very,” he nods, taking his place behind him. This time he grabs Louis softly, his smaller arms pressed in an X to his chest while Harry holds them there, immobile. “But there are other ways to get out of this without your hands that aren’t too much different from the first move.” 

Harry’s voice had gotten quieter as he maneuvered them, and now he’s completely silent. This time they’re much closer, with nowhere for Louis to go, trapped to his chest like this.  _ Trapped _ is a bit of a stretch, he thinks with a blush. He clears his throat lightly. 

“What do I do now?” he whispers. 

“Uhm,” Harry shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. “So now you’ll just want to focus on keeping their arms from moving higher into a headlock. You can do that by shifting your hips to one side,” he explains. 

Trying it, Louis leans all the way to the right, noting the way the grip on his left arm is already loosening nicely. 

“They won’t expect it,” Harry continues, “so once you’ve done that you should be able to wiggle your arm free, then use it to hit them where it hurts.” Louis shifts again and frees his arm, miming a swing downward toward Harry’s crotch, stopping just before it makes contact. “If you can’t get your arm free still, you’ll just want to bite them as hard as you can right here until you can,” he taps a spot on his bicep. 

“You’re really good at all of this,” Louis notes, testing it out again slowly. 

“I had to be,” Harry counters. 

Louis goes silent again, biting his lip at the stoic answer. He hadn’t meant to bring up the past or to make Harry uncomfortable, but he still can’t help his curiosity. He knows Harry’s story but not this specific caveat, and now he really wants to ask. 

“Did you have someone to teach you too?” 

“I was self-taught,” Harry shakes his head. “Had to learn to defend myself after - everything.” Louis feels him gulp. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he says softly. 

“Don’t be. I’m glad to know all of it. And I’m happy to be here, on the good side, instead of where I was. Plus,” he smiles, “now I’ve got all of you guys, so. I’d say it was worth it.” 

Breathing deep just as Harry resets their position and wraps his arms around him again, Louis tries to catch his eye over his own shoulder, only a breath apart. 

“You do have us,” Louis promises. “Always.” 

“I know,” Harry nods. His lips twitch again and he tightens his hold for just a moment before looking away. “Anyway, after you hit me, you’ll still have to get out of the other arm.” 

“You don’t think hitting you in the crotch will take care of that?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Harry raises his brows. “Now, c’mere. You’ve gotten halfway out, you’ve hit me, so now you need to get away. While I’m recovering you’ll take your other arm and use it to twist my wrist, like this,” he shows Louis, “until you can get free. Then, to give you more time to escape, go ahead and knee me in the balls again.” 

“ _ Again? _ ” Louis echoes, then shrugs. “Alright.” 

Once more they walk through it in slow motion before they try it for real. Harry takes a breath from behind him and steps forward once. 

“You ready?”

“Ready,” Louis nods. 

Harry’s footsteps start up again, quicker this time, and he grabs Louis abruptly around his middle, trapping his arms against his chest. Louis shifts to the left side instead of the right this time to throw him off and grins when one of his arms escapes. He swings it down and pretends to hit Harry in the crotch, using the distraction to get his other arm free. 

Louis smiles at his successful attempt but then remembers the final step, kneeing him once more, and he brings a leg up but overshoots. He squeals as he loses his balance. 

Harry brings his arm up again and before Louis can secure his footing they’re both falling sideways, barrelling toward the ground. He’s infinitely grateful that Harry has better reflexes than he does because he’s still bracing for the impact when he flips them mid-air, taking the hit with a small wince as Louis lands on top of him. 

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, lifting a hand to steady Louis’ weight on top of him. 

Chests still heaving, Louis puts a careful palm on Harry’s shoulder and nods, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. For just a few seconds Louis feels like he’s floating, the rubbery floor invisible underneath them as he clings to Harry’s body. 

“I - I’m fine,” Louis nods. “Oh God, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

He rambles as he tries to ease the pressure of his own body weight from on top of Harry, mindful of where he might be sore from any past missions or injuries. 

“Lou, I’m fine,” he smiles. “I think you were more hurt than I was honestly. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he assures, adrenaline still pumping through him. 

“Should we - uhm,” Harry’s voice is rough and low and it reverberates between them and inside of Louis’ ears, and he gets jostled when Harry points awkwardly up to the door. 

“Yeah,” Louis whispers. 

And yet, neither of them move. He feels like he should, maybe, with all of his weight resting completely on Harry, but he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable. When he shifts to do so anyway he realizes just what kind of position they’re in. 

His legs are locked securely around Harry’s waist from the fall, his hands gripping his shoulders tight. Their chests don’t have even an inch of space left between them, and he can feel the echo of Harry’s heartbeat mingling with his own, can feel hot breath from exhales on his chin. In his haste, Harry’s own hands have settled on Louis’ hips. The tips of his fingers feel like they’re burning holes into him even through the fabric of his shirt and take his breath away when they begin to stroke the skin underneath where it’d ridden up. 

It feels decidedly  _ not _ like their friendly, familiar cuddles and Louis isn’t sure whether he should point that out or not. Probably not. 

Still, before he can open his mouth to say anything at  _ all, _ two other guys scan the key card and the door to the gym beeps open. He and Harry snap their heads up and scramble to right themselves, a blush high on both of their cheeks. 

Quickly Harry gathers their things and they head to the exit, nodding once politely at the other men. Louis nearly trips over his own feet trying to get out the door. 

When they’re finally back in the hallway, they push at each other until they make it a bit away from the gym and then they’re laughing, clutching the wall to keep from bending forward with it. Because that’s what always happens after they get too close to each other like that. 

Harry wipes some tears from the corners of his eyes with his dimples still on display, using his knuckle to press the button for the lift. 

This is fine, Louis thinks. This is normal. He can just laugh it off. It’d been no big deal, really, he’d just been overthinking again like he always does. Harry’s his best friend. His ridiculously attractive, charming, seduce-people-for-a-living friend. 

“Can you imagine what they’d have thought?” Harry chuckles, his brows raised comically as he pulls Louis into the elevator with him. 

“Who knows,” Louis muses. His own smile doesn’t reach quite as far. 

They make it back to the room just as Harry’s got a hold of himself, and Louis throws the key card down onto the table inside the door when he passes it. He’s sweaty from the workout and from the closeness, and he’s aching for a shower again. 

When he turns to the restroom door, Harry’s already got his fingers on the handle. He smirks sideways at Louis. 

“You in the mood to save some water?” 

Scoffing at him, Louis flips him off to the sound of more laughter. He rolls his eyes and heads back to the edge of the bed to sit until he’s finished. 

Harry’s always had an awful, crude sense of humor, especially in private. And Louis’ never had an issue with that. In fact, most of the time he laughs so hard at his jokes that he gets a stitch in his side and an ache in his cheeks from it. 

Recently though, it’s different. Maybe Louis’ more sensitive or maybe the jokes have gotten more raunchy or -  _ something. _ Or maybe he’s just tired of the fact that they’re just jokes in the first place. 

He wonders what would happen if he’d said yes, if he stripped right now and told him to make room in the hotel shower. There’s definitely room for them both. Louis wonders if he’d be shocked or if he’d have seen it coming for a long time now, if Harry’d yell at him to get out or if he’d finally just lean in and kiss him, all dripping wet and low-lit. 

Sighing, Louis casts a cursory glance toward the cracked bathroom door and laces his fingers together in his lap, staying put. 

It’s a nice fantasy, is all. 

+

Zayn hasn’t responded. It’s been a few weeks now and Louis’ getting nervous. They’d been wanting to wait to see if he was back in officially before they arranged another mission, but after more than three weeks they’d all been too anxious to keep waiting with no response. 

It isn’t that he hasn’t been talking to them, because he is talking to Liam. But Liam says he doesn’t want to push him too hard at first and scare him away, and none of them want to rush him when it’s such an obviously fragile situation. 

After the last one, they’re all still a bit shaken up but hoping that this hit will get them back into the routine. Louis was feeling really good about this one too, in fact, until he’d realized that Harry would have to go in alone. 

The coffee shop is small and based on the last name there’s a chance that Niall’s family may be related somehow and that’s not a risk any of them are willing to take if he gets recognized. Liam claims he needs to stay in the car for some unknown reason, and when Louis offers to go with him Harry shuts it down before he can even get the sentence out. 

So he’s stuck bouncing his leg the entire drive to the location, zoning out to the radio on the lowest volume in the background. When Niall kills the engine, Louis’ the first one after Harry to step out. 

“Can’t you make Liam go with you?” 

“He’ll be suspicious if there’s more than one of us anyway,” Harry explains, his lips twitching affectionately. He pulls Louis into a hug and wraps his arms tight around him in reassurance. 

“I don’t feel good about this,” Louis whispers to him, reluctant to leave his side. 

“I’ll be fine,” Harry promises. “You worry about  _ you, _ alright? Would never forgive myself if you weren’t safe.” 

“But-” Louis argues weakly. 

Without even a moment to consider it, Harry leans in to peck him on the lips, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Louis freezes - is that something they’re doing now? He glances around them briefly but no one’s looking, Liam talking into his phone while Niall finishes polishing up one of the guns. 

Blushing bright red, Harry smiles softly and chuckles at his reaction, kissing him once more on his cheek before letting go of his hands. 

“I’ll see you in a few, Lou,” he says. 

Nodding, Louis nearly chokes trying to take a deep, calming breath, holding eye contact as Harry backs away. Eventually he nods at Liam and Niall and disappears around the side of one of the buildings, leaving Louis standing alone in the alley. 

“You ready, Lou?” Liam asks, shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

_ As I’ll ever be, _ he thinks.  _ And still not really.  _

“Ready,” he echoes lightly. 

Niall turns the key and unlocks the doors for them, adjusting the mirrors as Liam slides into the front seat and Louis climbs into the back and buckles in. Shutting his eyes, he takes a quiet moment before they start driving to center himself again, repeating Harry’s words in his head. This is the same as any other mission, he supposes. Why is he so nervous about it?

Probably because this time he can’t  _ see _ Harry, Louis guesses. Usually they only separate when they’re in the last stages of a plan, when he and Liam are together and it’s pretty much certain what the outcome is going to be. This time they’re separated from the beginning. Louis won’t know if he needs help or if something goes wrong, if he’s injured or worried. 

He shakes his head and mutters to himself. Harry’s a professional. He’s never failed a mission before. If all goes according to plan, Louis will see him in just a few minutes. 

It’s the  _ if _ that’s bothering him. 

“Let’s do this,” Niall mutters, checking behind them before pulling out of the alley and onto the main street, bustling with the lunch rush of fast cars and impatient drivers. Seamlessly they blend in to the flow of traffic, all of their eyes out for any threats. 

Already Liam’s got a hand on his gun near his waist, and Louis frowns. He only does that when he’s nervous. 

Twice they shift lanes, the sound of the blinker monotonous and too normal between Louis’ frantic, echoing heartbeats ricocheting in his head. He breathes deep again, glancing over at the car beside them. 

He makes eye contact with a boy who’s already looking over at him, a tiny smile on his face as he waves from his car seat. His parents are in the front, seemingly distracted by other things, but the boy waves brightly at Louis with his two front teeth missing. 

Huffing an emotional laugh, Louis raises his own hand and waves at him, wondering if he can somehow sense what’s going on. He gulps, lowering his hand again. Louis can see a lot of himself in that little boy. 

Bright eyes and eager movements, happy and unmarred by things he can’t yet understand. Louis grew up too fast. He hopes the little boy in the car in the lane over gets to be that cheerful for a long, long time. 

They speed up again and the car with the boy falls behind, Louis’ fingers lingering on the glass. When he passes the empty gazes of the parents in the front seat, Louis whips his head back around to the front and rubs his hands together nervously in his lap, coming back to reality. Suddenly they’re making a sharp turn onto another one of the side streets curving between tall buildings until they’re out of sight. 

“Where is he now?” Niall asks Liam quietly, not looking away from the road. 

“H said the guy’s not at the cafe,” Liam mutters, his phone in his hand and his jaw clenched. 

“What?” Louis interjects. “He’s not there?” 

“I guess not,” Liam snaps. “He texted me five minutes ago and said the guy didn’t show. Hasn’t said anything else since.” 

“Surely he left,” Niall says, his eyes darting toward the rear view, “Harry wouldn’t stay there if it wasn’t safe.” He pauses. “Right?” 

Before either of them can answer, Liam’s phone rings in his lap and he scrambles to pick it up, putting it on speaker. Instead of Harry’s voice though, it’s Zayn’s that filters through the speaker. 

“I’ve got the guy, Liam,” Zayn rushes. “I caught him leaving out the side door of a business building a few blocks away. He’s dead.” 

“Shit,” Liam curses. “I mean, that’s good, but -” 

“But it means that whoever Harry was set to meet with is a decoy,” Zayn finishes, an eerie silence falling over the car. “Someone’s onto you, Li.” 

“Shit,” Niall repeats, banging a hand on the steering wheel. “Shit, shit,  _ shit. _ ” 

Stepping abruptly on the brakes, they screech loudly as Niall maneuvers a quick u-turn and floors it back in the other direction, toward where Harry was set to meet with him. 

Louis’ stomach drops so low he thinks he may get sick, the seatbelt restricting his breathing. He blinks, wide-eyed, gripping onto the back of the front seats until his hands turn a ghostly shade of white. 

He  _ knew _ something hadn’t been right. Louis could feel it but he still let Harry walk away from him, right into the hands of their target. 

“He’s not picking up,” Liam hisses, Harry’s contact name flashing red on his phone screen. “Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ ” 

It isn’t often that Liam gets nervous, and it’s even less often that he shows it outwardly. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip to keep it from trembling. Wiping his hands on his thighs, he leans with the movement of the car as Niall swerves again. 

Every single building looks the same and Louis’ dizzy as he searches for the small cafe, racking his brain for the map he’d drawn out back at the hotel. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears almost more than their muttered curses, Harry’s voicemail message too loud in the small car. 

“Almost there,” Niall breathes. He presses the gas as hard as it’ll go, speeding between the buildings and onto the bridge that connects them to the block of buildings where they split up. 

“There,” Liam points, the brown roof of the cafe in view ahead of them. 

Louis shifts forward in his seat to get a better look, frantically scanning the parking lot and the tables outside for Harry. He’s moving to look out the side window when the sound of metal crashing rings in his ears just before the pain registers. 

Within seconds they’re thrown sideways, the car spinning as someone collides with the side of them. Smoke fills his vision and his lungs, his arm thrown up to cover his eyes from the heavy debris. They crash into something else and it slows their speed, but Louis can feel his body jolt upward, his head knocking against the front console. 

The car finally screeches to a halt when he turns back to look out the front window, skidding across the pavement and stopping only a few inches out from the side of the bridge, ominously dark water cascading down just a few feet away from where Louis’ sitting now. A black SUV skids away, the sound of the tires rolling making him wince. His seatbelt is digging into his ribs and his breath leaves his mouth in short, punctuated puffs of air, but all he can focus on is Harry. 

_ Harry _ , he thinks helplessly. It’s the image of Harry swirling around in his brain that gets his limbs to move, ignoring Liam and Niall’s worried questions and prying the side door open where it’s lodged against the railing. 

_ Where is Harry?  _

He doesn’t realize he’s bleeding until there’s a trail from the car to where he’s standing, glancing all different directions to look for him. Louis blinks harshly against the sunlight and puts an arm up to block it from his vision. His head hurts and his bad ankle aches worse than it ever has, but he doesn’t stop. 

The sight of his own blood used to scare him. It still does, sometimes. He isn’t scared right now. His mind is whirring in a thousand different directions, eyes darting into windows and through traffic to see if he can spot long, curly hair. 

Movement registers to the side of him and Louis throws his head that way, Zayn’s body slowly coming into focus as he runs toward them. 

“What the hell was that?” He yells, extending a hand to help Liam and Niall from the car. “You guys okay? Li? Niall?” 

His voice fades in and out of Louis’ ears as he continues his search, stumbling over his own legs and grabbing onto the nearest object before he can fall completely to the concrete. Swallowing down his nausea, he uses the railing to drag himself further, down to where the cafe is. 

“Louis, come back,” he hears vaguely, Zayn’s voice yelling at him. “We’ve got to leave before the cops get here!” 

“Harry,” he mutters determinedly, broken around the edges from the smoke he inhaled. 

He only makes it a few more steps before he dives headfirst for the ground, hitting his head again in the same spot. Slowly he raises a hand to inspect his wound. It’s completely painless, but when Louis pulls his hand away from his forehead it’s covered in bright, silky red. 

“Louis!” 

He squints as his hand drops back down to the pavement and his eyes close, blinking at the cafe in a daze. Footsteps sound around him, some of the ash still floating around in the air. Louis’ vision dances in and out of focus and his lips part on a sigh. 

And then he faints. 

+

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? You stick with Liam and Niall  _ always. _ I can’t believe you tried to run out in the street with a  _ concussion, _ Louis. Do you know how much worse it could have been if Zayn hadn’t gotten you back to the car?” 

The deep rumble of his voice is what manages to wake Louis up once he’s back at the hotel. He registers the crisp bed sheets and the linen underneath his fingertips, the fluffed pillow keeping him propped up behind his head. When his eyes open everything's blurry but his hearing’s fine, worried rambling echoing in his ears. 

Wincing as he shifts slightly, the room goes silent. Louis blinks hard against the light until someone turns everything off except for the bedside lamp and he can finally open them fully. 

His gaze moves around the hotel room but settles on Harry sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, registering it when his entire body lilts with his relieved exhale. 

Louis grins. “Harry,” he mutters, then frowns, panicking, “are you okay?” 

A quiet chuckle travels around him. His eyes snap to Niall and Liam at the foot of the bed. His head aches when he moves even the slightest bit, and Louis whimpers and blinks hard again. 

“Careful,” Harry tells him, keeping his hand from rubbing his forehead too harshly. “You’ve got a concussion, Lou. You can’t do that right now.” 

“Are you okay?” Louis insists. 

The entire scene begins to replay in his head, bits and pieces of what happened coming back to him in out-of-order fragments he struggles to organize. He remembers afterwards most clearly, hitting his head in the crash and then stumbling and falling again in his search for Harry. 

“I’m fine, love. I’m more worried about you,” he forces a soft laugh, but Louis can tell he’s still tense. 

“Zayn bandaged you up and said you should be fine, but that you need to stay in that position for a bit and that we probably need to get some food and water in you. You’ve been out for a bit now,” Liam explains. 

“We were really worried,” Harry murmurs quietly, chewing on his lower lip. 

“Thank  _ God _ Zayn knew what he was doing,” Niall adds behind them, “He told us all about what we should and shouldn’t do. Sounds like you’re gonna be fine in a few weeks, bud.” 

“A few weeks?” Louis double checks, his eyes widening, then lowering again when a flicker of pain resonates in his head. 

“And you’ll relax until then,” Harry raises a challenging brow. “No work. Just rest.” 

He wishes he could argue but he honestly doesn’t feel like it right now. He knows Harry will hold him to it. Louis rolls his lips together and shifts so he can feel if he’s sore anywhere else. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “Can I at least go brush my teeth and use the bathroom? My mouth feels disgusting.” He runs his tongue over his front teeth and grimaces, the residue from the smoke and soot and the food he’d eaten in the morning still sitting thick on them and his tongue. 

At his cue, Harry jumps up to clear a path for him then returns to help him up while Liam and Niall make sure all of his things are set out on the bathroom counter. Louis huffs and tries to roll his eyes but stops midway and winces. 

“Careful,” Harry reminds him. 

Louis clings to his arm and hobbles to the bathroom, his joints creaking as he goes. He notes the cast on Niall’s arm and the bandaid on Liam’s cheek but there seems to be no other injuries. That, at least, makes him feel somewhat better. 

He’s going to miss his unfailing independence, but he’s never going to complain too much about having Harry’s attention. Once they make it to the bathroom door Liam and Niall step away and Harry helps him over to the sink, and for a moment Louis thinks he’s going to try to brush his teeth for him. 

Harry doesn’t. Instead, he glances over his shoulder and then back to Louis, his mouth halfway open. He shuts it promptly and runs his eyes over Louis’ face, rubbing his thumb across a bruise on his cheek. 

Then he leans down just like he had before the mission and presses his lips to Louis’ for just a fraction of a second, too quick for Louis to even properly comprehend it, and pulls away again. 

“I’m really happy you’re okay,” he says again. 

Struggling to regain his composure, Louis clears his throat lightly and nods as Harry’s hand falls away from his face. “You too.” 

Harry smiles and exhales, then backs away and shuts the door behind him. “Yell if you need me,” he calls through it. 

Louis nearly yells for him but catches himself before he can. Harry hadn’t meant it that way. 

+

Weeks pass and Louis gets much better - and gets better  _ quickly _ thanks to Harry’s ban on his computer for the time being. Not being able to plan for them makes him anxious, as well as do some research into what the hell happened on their last mission, but he has to admit that the break from electronics has been very relaxing. 

Unfortunately, his break extends to other things too. Like leaving the room at  _ all. _ The rest of them bring him food and entertain him while he lounges around the room between the sofa and the bed, eating and watching shitty television to pass the time. 

Tonight, Liam and Niall made plans to go out and relieve some of the stress still in them from the mission. Louis tells them it’s a wonderful idea, then makes Harry promise that he’ll go with them. 

At first he argues but when Louis uses his best pleading voice and bats his lashes, Harry reluctantly agrees. Louis’ glad - Harry hasn’t left his side since they got back and he needs a break just like the rest of them do. 

It’d been a wonderful idea until they’d left. Then Louis found out he could only force so much of the awful movies and television into him without anyone else being here; it was just too painful otherwise. He wasn’t hungry so he hadn’t ordered room service either, opting to down several glasses of tap water from the sink so he wouldn’t have to leave the room. 

Ultimately, he decides to just turn in early and try to get some sleep. His original plan was to stay up until Harry returned, but he figures they can talk about what happened in the morning instead. 

Changing gingerly into his pajamas in the bathroom, Louis brushes his teeth and rinses with some warm water, heading back into the bedroom to turn off the lights. He leaves on only the one next to the door for when Harry does get back so he won’t be in the dark if he’s intoxicated. 

His headaches and most of the side effects have faded by this point, and the white noise of the AC and the cars passing by outside have no trouble lulling him into almost-sleep. 

But that’s all it is - almost. No matter how hard he tries, he’s too used to sleeping when he knows Harry’s in the bed next to him. Louis huffs and turns over, facing the empty sheets across from him with a frown. He thinks about texting him to see when he’s coming back, but he’d left his phone on the desk far away and he also doesn’t want to bother him if he’s having a good time. 

So he stays put instead and accepts defeat, trying to count sheep to see if it’ll make any difference. Time passes, Louis knows because he peeks an eye open to check the digital clock on the nightstand every few minutes, but he doesn’t have any luck. 

Just when he’s about to give up and call him anyway, the keycard scanner beeps and the handle clicks open, Harry’s boots clicking against the tile. 

He does his best to even out his breathing when he hears Harry cursing as he shuts it back quietly, doesn’t move at all when Harry fumbles about aimlessly until he hits the bed. Without even changing, Louis can hear him slide underneath the covers and grumble angrily, tossing and turning in the sheets. 

Louis wishes he wasn’t angry, but he’s used to Harry taking a bit to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. Harry can nap virtually anywhere, but when he’s in a bed he usually shifts around until he feels most comfortable. Sometimes it takes him hours, other nights he’s out in seconds. 

Why does Louis know all of this? 

So he tunes it out, tries to actually go to sleep instead of just pretending. It’s working great, too, until the sound of Harry unzipping his jeans reaches his ears. This is also not unusual - Harry likes sleeping naked and if he thinks Louis’ already asleep he wouldn’t be surprised if he stripped completely. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time. 

Just because he’s used to it, though, doesn’t mean his interest is any less peaked. Louis can hear the beat of his heart in one of his ears and the sound of Harry’s clothes coming off with the other, nearly jumping when they hit the floor between their beds. 

Harry’s naked. Everything’s fine. 

Or it would be, if he’d stopped at that. But it seems like Harry had a specific purpose for shedding his clothing. 

A sharp intake of breath comes first, just a quiet sound between one second and the next that Louis would’ve missed if he’d inhaled at the same time. Next, sheets rustling and a sigh, Harry shifting again on the pillows behind his head. Unsuspicious enough, he figures. Maybe Harry was just hot. 

But then - then there is the unmistakable sound of Harry touching himself. The slide of skin on skin, a pause every now and then where Louis assumes Harry’s licking his own hand (another thing he’s seen  _ accidentally _ in the past). Obscenely, no doubt. 

Any time there’s a hitch in his breathing Harry falters for a moment like he hadn’t meant to let it out, freezing and peeking over at Louis’ side of the room to make sure he’s still asleep. His hand doesn’t stop for long when he does, just long enough to glance and then get back to working himself over. 

Louis may be in shock. This whole situation has moved terribly fast and he’s not really able to process it with the hazy edges of sleep in his brain but he knows it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

He and Harry are close, closer than with the others probably, but Harry avoids talking about anything even remotely sexual with him. Louis doesn’t know why, really, just hopes that it isn’t because he’s so repulsive Harry can’t stomach even the thought of Louis being with someone in general. 

Liam and Niall tease him and his apparent lack of knowledge, but Harry never says a word. It’s comforting and confusing and Louis is hard in his boxers. 

_ Oops _ , he thinks. 

The point is that this is so unlike Harry, to do something like this in front of Louis even if he  _ does _ think he’s asleep. Louis should be uncomfortable, probably, but instead he’s just nervous. Because, by the sounds he’s making and the flurry of movement underneath the sheet that Louis can just barely make out from the corner of his eye, Harry is close. 

He isn’t stupid by any means, but - what exactly is he supposed to do? Louis’ never been prepped for this kind of situation. Hacking into databases in sixty seconds or less, being able to defend himself from impromptu cyber attacks, and conducting highly detailed, government-level background searches at the snap of a finger, sure, but not  _ this _ . 

He shifts a bit on the bed hoping that maybe Harry will hear him and finish himself off in the restroom, where Louis may have a chance at getting out of this without completely embarrassing himself, but he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t even slow down, just moans quietly and pistons his hips up into his own fist like the thought of Louis being awake just turns him on even more. 

And to make everything infinitely worse, when Louis moved his hips he’d accidentally slid himself against the pillow between his legs. He has to bite his lip in an effort to not give himself away but,  _ oh _ , he wants to do that again. 

He does, barely. Just a small jerk up into the rough material, the friction more than enough through his thin pajama shorts. It feels  _ so good  _ and the sound of Harry’s hand on his cock less than four feet away is making him go a bit crazy. 

Helplessly, Louis ruts up into his pillow a bit harder when he thinks Harry is distracted enough not to notice, rocking back and forth steadily but trying to stay silent. His cheek and one eye are smooshed into the pillow, but he keeps one eye open just enough to watch Harry while he does it. 

That should be creepy, too. A bad thing to do that Louis would  _ not _ have considered doing under any other circumstances, surely, but if Harry feels comfortable enough to get himself off in the same room as him then who is he to deny Louis the same privilege? 

It isn’t difficult to catch up to where Harry’s at, right on the edge, gasping into pillowcases and clutching sheets, muscles tensed and balancing on the edge. Louis’ so ready for it, trying to hold off until Harry does, but he can’t help the dig of his hips into the material to relieve some of the pressure. 

He freezes when Harry looks over at him, hurriedly shuts his eyes and tries to pretend to be asleep again, but he knows his body is in too weird of a position to look realistic. Harry’s hand that had been sliding over his cock at a punishing rate has stopped, leaving just the sound of their breathing in the room. 

Harry’s going to know what he did. He’s going to come over here and yell at him, tell him how disgusting he is, maybe even hit him or something, Louis’ sure. 

But then he starts moving again, slowly, gaze still trained on Louis’ body underneath the covers. Squinting in the dark, he’s beautiful. He’s not hurried anymore, just staring over at Louis with an unreadable expression on his face. 

It would be sweet, almost, if he didn’t promptly come afterward. 

But he does, eyelids fluttering shut and panting quietly, head tossing side to side on the pillow. Louis takes his chance while Harry’s not looking, works his hips down frantically a few more times before he’s biting down on the pillow to hide his whimper and vibrating with the effort to keep still, coming hard in his boxers. 

Harry just lays there for a long time, breathing hard at the ceiling and for a minute Louis thinks he may just fall asleep like that. But then he slides to the edge of the bed, stumbles into the bathroom to wet a rag and presumably wipe himself down, before coming back into the room. 

It shocks him when Harry kisses his forehead and he twitches a bit, but Harry shushes him and slides a careful hand down his cheek. Louis pretends he’s still asleep. 

Later, after Harry’s back in his own bed, Louis contemplates getting up to go to the bathroom himself and make things easier for himself. 

“Goodnight, Lou,” Harry whispers. 

He falls asleep instead. 

+

Finally, he’s allowed back his laptop. Louis hugs it to his chest when Harry reveals where it’d been hidden in his suitcase, heavy and familiar in his hands. It takes him all of a single day to resume what he’d already had going for their next hit, just filling in some empty spaces before it’s ready to be shared. 

Recently everything’s been feeling different than usual, more risky and just - different. He can’t figure out why exactly, or why they seem to be losing their touch, but Louis’ just so close to - 

“Lou?” Harry’s head pops around the corner. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m headed across the hall to talk to Liam about the plan for a sec. You need anything while I’m dressed? I can get us some snacks from the lobby?”

Humming, Louis glances around his workstation on the hotel desk. “No, I think I’m okay. Let me know if you guys see any issues, alright?” 

“Will do,” Harry calls, already headed out the door. 

Saving the final doc that’s already been shared with everyone, Louis scans his eyes over it one last time before he shuts the lid. He stands, stretching his arms high over his head, and yawns. 

The mini fridge doesn’t offer him much when he checks the shelves, so he tries to think of the room service menu but that doesn’t sound great either. Cocking a hip, Louis bites his lip as he visualizes the chocolate brownies down in the lobby. He heads back over to the desk to retrieve his phone and shoots Harry a quick text. 

He’s just pressed send when the ping goes off somewhere in the same room. He sighs as he spots Harry’s phone on his bed. Oh well, he figures, he’ll run across the hall and give Harry his phone and then ask if he wants to go down to the lobby together instead. 

Louis pockets his phone and grabs Harry’s to give back to him, slipping the keycard and his wallet into his back pocket as well. He checks the door is locked behind him, then walks the few steps. 

Raising a hand to knock before he enters, Louis pauses. Through the cracked door, he can see Harry and Liam standing in front of the desk in a similar layout to their own room. The lights in the entryway are off so they can’t see Louis well, but the computer screen in front of them is bright enough that Louis can make out the shared document on it that he’d just finished a bit earlier. 

Liam pulls a hand through his hair and sighs, gesturing with his hands as he shrugs. “I just - I think it’s a bit more than what we’re used to, is all. I can’t explain it, really.” 

Harry’s leaned forward with a crease in his brow behind him, reading over the same text. His back is facing Louis so it’s more difficult to see his full expression, but Louis knows his tone fairly well by now. 

“That’s alright,” he says to Liam. “Louis knows what he’s doing. We’ll just get in and out as fast as possible. We can bring Niall in with us too if you think we’ll need backup.” 

Louis gulps, stinging guilt rising in the back of his throat. 

“Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says. 

Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back. 

“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.” 

+

The ride to the location is quiet, each of them in their own heads as they try to keep focused on their specific instructions. This has to go correctly or else they could get themselves into a lot of danger, unused to having so many targets at once - a newer group of dealers and traffickers that believe they’ve reached out to them in hopes of joining their gang. 

Louis aches to reach a hand out and reassure Harry next to him in the backseat but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to, if Harry would lean into it or turn away. All of them have been unusually silent since the planning for a reason none of them can pinpoint, but Louis won’t deny he feels it just as much as they do. 

But he tells himself that they do missions like this all the time. They’re all well prepared and seasoned, and there’s no reason they can’t pull this off. It doesn’t soothe him as much as it should. 

When they pull into the parking lot behind the building, he can’t help himself any longer. Clearing his throat, he catches their attention before they step out of the car. He feels like he should say something more, something meaningful and firm, but he can only muster so much. He isn’t as brave as he’d like to be. 

“Good luck,” he says quietly, eyes lingering on Harry’s. 

Liam and Niall nod at him in thanks and Harry gives a small reassuring smile, tapping the back of his hand once before he slides out and shuts the door again. It feels wrong, all of it. Climbing over the middle console so he’ll be in the front seat in case of an emergency, Louis presses the lock button on all the doors, kills the engine, and shrinks back into the leather. They’re parked far away so that it’s inconspicuous, but it’s far enough that Louis loses sight of them fairly quickly as they enter an alley a bit further down. It leads to an abandoned business park, Louis knows, but his poorly drawn maps that he can barely even remember now offer him no comfort. 

He wonders why there aren’t any cars. It isn’t a very busy street but he hasn’t seen anyone on the drive over or since he’s been sitting here, and the ominous feeling he gets from the vacancy leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He checks the mirrors compulsively and forces himself to take a few deep breaths. 

The rule is in full force, but Louis isn’t actually really prepared for what he’ll do if he has to go in there. Selfishly, he wishes one of them would have stayed in the car, but he knows that it’s best if there are more of them. 

The sound of an engine revving startles him and Louis watches as a single SUV passes behind him, continuing down the street going the proper speed. Nausea swirls in his stomach and his brow dips inward. He makes his decision. 

Glancing around the street one last time, Louis reaches over to the glove compartment and unlocks it with the key, grabbing the handgun out from underneath its hiding spot. It feels heavy and wrong in his hands, but nothing about this feels  _ right _ so he inhales sharply and swings open the door, walking quickly across the street to the alley where they disappeared. 

His footsteps are the only noise and he quickens them to a jog the further he goes, dodging trash and old mattresses as he heads toward the boarded up business park behind all of it. 

When he gets to the door Louis pauses, letting his heartbeat calm somewhat as he presses an ear to the door. 

Silence. 

Gulping, he grips the gun down by his waist and squeezes his eyes shut, then pulls open the unlocked door. The handle is still warm. 

He steps inside hesitantly and takes in his surroundings. The inside is much like the outside had been, with garbage littering all of the corners and a rotting smell to go with it. But there’s no noise, and there’s no other people here. 

The panic swells inside of his chest as he whips his head side to side in the empty room, hoping that they’ll reappear somewhere, that this is some kind of joke he just hadn’t been a part of. Shaking his head, Louis goes back outside into the harsh sun and runs all the way back to where the car is parked, still empty like when he left it. 

His breath leaves him completely and his heart drops into his stomach. The street is still and there hadn’t been any noises, no car tires squealing or heavy footsteps. Everything is deadly quiet, so much so that Louis can hear the ringing bouncing around between his ear drums. He gives one last hopeful glance toward the door of the place just as a sob escapes his lips, still vacant and unmoving. 

They’re gone. 


	2. ii

Zayn shows up on his doorstep at half past six in the morning. The sun hasn’t even risen yet but already Louis’ worn a pattern on the floor from his pacing, his fingernails bitten down to the skin. 

The only reason he’d even been able to get in contact with Zayn at all is because Liam’s phone was still in his room, plugged in where he left it on the nightstand when he went downstairs to get a drink the night before.  _ Thank God, _ Louis thinks, because he knows he can’t handle this on his own. 

He hasn’t had much sleep and he hasn’t eaten anything yet either, too worried and nauseous to think of those things. Too worried to do much of anything but sit and stare at the wall, feeling utterly helpless and scared and guilty and unsure of what exactly he should be doing. 

The door’s locked because there’s a good chance if someone targeted them as a whole they’d be coming for Louis too, but the entire hallway’s been dead silent the entire time he’s been awake. Or maybe he just can’t hear over the ringing in his ears. 

By the time the knock sounds on the wood, the sun is just coming up outside the window. With numb fingertips Louis drags his feet as fast as they’ll go to check the peephole, sighing gratefully when Zayn’s hair catches his eye on the other side. 

“Zayn,” he breathes, unlatching the door and throwing it open. 

“I didn’t hear much of what you said on the phone so you’ll have to tell me again,” is the first thing he says, already slipping off his jacket and fixing his hair as Louis re-locks the door compulsively. 

“They’re gone. Harry, Niall, and Liam.” 

“Gone as in they went to get groceries or gone as in…?” he checks. 

“Gone, gone. I think they’ve been taken,” Louis rushes nervously. “I have some idea who it could be, but - they definitely aren’t here. And their phones are all dead and Harry had a full battery when he left so that means that it was probably powered off because he never just powers it off, he promised me that before so that I could always call if I needed to,” he rambles. 

Across from him, Zayn stands in the entryway of the hotel room, running a hand through his hair. His brows dip in like he’s thinking and Louis hopes he’s better than him at this, less nervous and more aware of what they should do. He’ll take any advice at this point, and he hopes Zayn will stay and help him because he doesn’t see himself getting very far on his own if this morning is any judgement. 

“Let’s - let’s just take a deep breath, alright?” he says, running his eyes over Louis, the open laptop, and the unmade bed. “You need to get dressed. Have you eaten yet?” 

Louis gapes at him for a moment, frozen solid and unblinking. “What are you talking about?” 

With a pronounced sigh, Zayn takes it upon himself to walk over to the closet, opening up the double doors and pulling out a change of fresh clothes. He sets them on the bathroom counter and flips on the light, then walks back out to the room to rifle through the nightstand. 

“Go shower and get ready. I’ll order us something to eat. It looks like you’ve been up for a while already and we won’t get anywhere with this if you’re sick.” 

His tone leaves no room for argument but Louis still wastes a few seconds just staring, his head turned sideways. Zayn calmly scans the breakfast menu and then reaches for the phone to place the order, but then pauses again when he sees Louis still hasn’t moved. 

“How are you not nervous?” Louis whispers. 

“Look,” Zayn starts, more gently this time, setting the menu down again, “you know them, Louis. They’re smart guys and they can take care of themselves while we come up with a plan. But we can get things done much quicker if you just take a few minutes to eat and change into some clean clothes. You look ill.” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, his throat raw and voice hoarse. “Yeah, okay.” 

He heads over to his suitcase in the corner and bends on shaky limbs to retrieve his bathroom necessities and a fresh pair of underwear, choking back sudden tears when he catches sight of Harry’s t-shirt mixed in with his own belongings. 

Promptly standing again, he can’t bear to keep it inside any longer. Zayn’s already got the phone to his ear but he huffs and hangs up again when Louis comes to stand in front of him. 

“I - it’s just-” Louis stutters, “it’s my fault, Zayn.” 

“And how exactly is it your fault?” he drawls. 

“The - the people that took them. They work for my father.” 

“Alright,” Zayn says slowly. “So? That doesn’t mean you knew it was gonna happen.” 

“I’ve been targeting his men for months,” Louis deadpans. “I just thought he wouldn’t be able to figure out it was me, that maybe they just happened to have bad luck. But one after the other - I’m sure he’s managed to figure it out. Now - now Harry, Liam, and Niall are gone and it’s - it  _ is _ my fault.” 

“Shit,” Zayn says, but he doesn’t sound angry. He crosses his arms over his chest and nods once, decidedly. “We’d better get to work, then.” 

“Wha- that’s it?” Louis asks, his voice high, clutching his clothes to his chest. 

“Nothing’s gonna change the past now, yeah? Doesn’t matter who it is,” Zayn tells him. “Your dad has something we want. We’re going to get it back.” 

How is everyone so  _ confident? _ Louis knows why Zayn used to fit in so well with the rest of them. He’s frustratingly calm and it’s making  _ Louis _ calm and he can’t tell if he likes that or loathes it. A voice of reason isn’t exactly what he wanted right now, but maybe it’s what he needs. 

He is right, after all - Harry, Liam, and Niall are the smartest, most capable people he knows. They act stupid sometimes and they make jokes, but Louis’ seen them in action. They’re all capable of far more than he is. 

That isn’t what he’s most nervous about though. Their arrangement has always worked because they were all involved. Each one of them brought something more, some skill or ability to their team that made them so successful. If things were the other way around, Louis knows they’d be able to save him within hours. 

But this way? When it’s  _ Louis _ that has to save  _ them _ instead? He isn’t equipped for any of it. Louis keels over slightly, a hand on his empty, growling stomach as the nausea builds with nothing to show for it. Zayn groans, picking up the phone and menu again. 

“Now, for the love of  _ God,  _ go shower and let me order us some food. M’fucking starving.” 

Swallowing down the acidic taste in his throat, Louis nods quickly and scurries around the corner, bare feet meeting the tiled bathroom floor. He slams the door shut too loudly and winces, then turns and rests his back against it, staring up helplessly at the ceiling. 

Too shaky to hold himself up, he slides down it until he reaches the floor. Burying his face into his hands, he covers his mouth just in time for the sob to echo around the bathroom. 

If they’ve got time to shower and eat first, he’d better get this out, too. 

+

Admittedly, Louis feels much better after he showers and eats. He’s still unbelievably nervous, more so than he’s ever been in his life, but his throat doesn’t hurt anymore, his stomach gratefully accepting the much needed food and water from the room service Zayn ordered. 

“This isn’t going to be fun,” Zayn mutters to him after they’re finished eating, his own laptop open on the desk in front of them. 

It hadn’t been difficult to track them down. Liam, the smart man he is, has a tracker hidden in his necklace for times like these, and for reasons Louis still doesn’t quite understand, Zayn has the app to track it on his phone. Either way, it sucks most of the research out of it, and for that Louis’ grateful. 

The location Zayn traces them to is a casino in Vegas, quite the trip from where they are now. He and Zayn agreed to leave this afternoon, but they need a plan first. 

He’s just finished showing Zayn all of his notes on his own computer, everything about his father from the crimes he’d been caught for to every man he’d worked with, the people lost in the process of it all. To his surprise, Zayn  _ isn’t _ surprised at his obsessive research. He takes all of it in and thinks to himself, then tells him what he’s thinking. 

“It already isn’t fun,” Louis points out bitterly. 

Zayn ignores him. “I’m afraid this is gonna be more difficult than I thought.” He locks his jaw and stares hard at the screen, continuing on. “If your dad knows it’s you he’ll know that you’re coming to get them out. We need to use that to our advantage.” 

“Okay,” Louis says. He understands that much, but he doesn’t understand how to actually do that. He’s wired to think in computer terms and algorithms, not like the rest of them. 

“I think if you go in there and make a scene then I can get them out.” 

“Surely it can’t be that easy,” Louis counters. “He’s got people working for him, and weapons we don’t have, and-” 

“I know that,” Zayn cuts him off, eyes slanting his direction. “Which is why you make an offer to him. You call him beforehand and let him know that you’ve reconsidered your outlook. You want to apologize and work with him from now on.” 

Tugging his bottom lip in between his teeth, Louis crosses and re-crosses his legs underneath the desk. “You really think he’ll buy that?” 

“I think it’s the only chance we’ve got. He knows how good you are at this stuff,” Zayn gestures loosely to his computer, “that’s something he probably wants. That makes you valuable to him. If he wanted to hurt you specifically I think he would have just done it. The fact that he took the rest of them instead tells me that he knows you well. You care about them and he knows you’ll come for them.” 

Several emotions running through him at once, Louis stares wide-eyed at Zayn and fights back his tears from earlier, even more worried now. Either he’s just really good at reading people or Louis’ just  _ that _ plain that everyone knows what he’s thinking with a simple glance. 

Regardless of what it is, it only motivates Louis more. He’s more than just a computer or a face behind a screen. And as much as he loves doing that, he loves his friends more. He’s determined now, and with Zayn’s help, maybe he just might be able to pull this off. 

“I’ll do it,” he says. 

“Perfect,” Zayn shuts the lid to his laptop and stands from the desk, taking a moment to stretch his arms over his head. “You should finish packing up. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” 

Louis watches him head over to his own small bag he’d brought, tossing his charger and electronics into it. He grabs Liam, Niall, and Harry’s phones and sticks them in the side pocket to bring with them. 

With a small frown, Louis stands and packs up his own things, eyes straying to the sofa he and Harry sat on just a day and some hours before. His chest aches all over again. 

“Do you think we’ll make it in time?” Louis asks him quietly, his fear slipping through in the way his voice cracks, the tears still thick in the back of his throat. 

Tossing his bag over his shoulder, Zayn walks around him to lean up against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed and one ankle crossed over the other. He doesn’t bother mincing words. 

“If they’re dead your dad has nothing to offer you. Either he wants you for your skills or he wants you to be there if he  _ is _ planning to do something to them as some kind of revenge, but we aren’t gonna let that happen.” 

“We aren’t,” Louis says, but it sounds more like a question. 

“We aren’t,” Zayn repeats firmly. “Now, let’s get out of here.” 

Shoving the last of his clothes into his bag, Louis grabs everything they’d gathered from the other room of the boy’s things and lays it in there as well, zipping the entire thing shut. He takes one last long look around the room to make sure they hadn’t missed anything, then gulps. 

“I’m ready,” he says. 

_ I’m  _ so _ not ready, _ he thinks. 

+

The first hour or so of the drive is quiet. Zayn’s car is so posh that the air conditioning is practically silent even on full blast, but the windows are all the way up and Louis doesn’t want to seem rude by turning on the radio. 

Because he’d used up so much of it on the drive over, they have to stop for gas not too long after they left the hotel. It’s dark outside now, and Louis resists the constant urge to lock the doors when Zayn steps out to pump it into the vehicle. 

Not long after it’s finished Zayn taps on the window and Louis jumps, glancing up at him out the passenger side window. He motions for Louis to step out to which he hesitates, but ultimately does so. 

“I’m headed inside to get something to eat and some more cigarettes. You should use the restroom and get a snack so we won’t have to stop again.” 

Louis sticks close to him as they trail across the empty parking lot, the bell above the door chiming when they come in. No one’s in here except the clerk behind the counter, who Zayn immediately approaches for his cigarettes. Gulping, Louis points awkwardly toward the restrooms even though Zayn isn’t looking at him anymore. 

When he’s washing his hands he hesitates to glance up at his own reflection. His exhaustion is obvious as well as his stress, but he doesn’t look too awful, he doesn’t think. In fact, he thinks he looks a little bit rugged in a way he hasn’t before. He isn’t used to the fear and anticipation in his veins, thrumming smoothly and violently through his blood. 

His entire life he’s played it as safe as he could. He lost his family and didn’t do a thing about it. He cried and he felt bad for himself and he felt helpless and insecure. Now, because he never taught himself how to handle his problems head-on, he’s made everyone else suffer. 

No more, he decides. Louis’ still so nervous that his hands shake but he can’t afford to give into that right now. If facing his father is what it takes to get them back, that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

“Louis?” Zayn’s voice carries into the small bathroom as he knocks on the door. 

“I’m here,” Louis replies. He flips the sink on and splashes his face with some cool water before drying his hands and heading out. 

He peruses the short aisles while he waits for Zayn in return, digging some cash out of his wallet to pay for a bag of peanuts, some chex mix, and a drink. He’s still too anxious to eat or drink much more than that. 

Once he’s out of the restroom they head back outside, but Zayn insists on a cigarette before they start driving again. Instead of reminding him that they’re kind of on a tight schedule, Louis decides to let him have it, sitting beside him on one of the benches out front. It’s the only sign that maybe Zayn is as nervous as he is. 

“Didn’t you say Harry taught you some of his moves?” Zayn asks. 

Louis jerks at his name so casually brought up in conversation, blushing when Zayn narrows his gaze. “Yeah, he did. I wasn’t very good, but - I know some of it. Enough.” 

“That’s good, then,” Zayn nods to himself, fumbling with the cigarette packet. “At least we aren’t  _ completely _ hopeless. You know how to shoot a gun?” 

It’s less than polite but Louis takes it with a grain of salt, aware that the situation is probably weighing on Zayn just as much as it is him. They’re Louis’ team now but it isn’t as if Zayn has forgotten about them. He seems equally if not more upset than Louis is, in fact, when he curses the packet that won’t open and fumbles for a lighter from his pocket, turning his face up toward the stormy sky with a squint. 

“No idea,” Louis breathes. “But it can’t be that difficult, right? I’ve seen them do it a thousand times.” 

“We’ll need to get a small one for you, one that I can teach you how to use quickly,” he decides. “I think you’re going to need it.” 

“Alright,” Louis agrees. 

Zayn finally gets the cigarette lit and brings it up to his lips, but no sooner is Louis looking down at his fingers and back up again is he stubbing it out on the concrete beside them. Raising a brow, Louis catches his eye. 

“Let’s just go,” Zayn says. 

Harry was right about Zayn, Louis thinks. At first it seems like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about anything. But Louis’ only known him, truly known him, for just over two days now altogether, and it’s obvious he cares even if he doesn’t always show it openly. 

Before he gets back in the car, Louis pulls out his phone and opens a blank text, clicking on his father’s contact for the first time since he was young. He’s glad he’d saved it for all these years for some unexplainable reason. Finally, he’s going to get closure. 

Without talking himself out of it he types a short message. Just enough to warn him so that they don’t get immediately killed when they arrive. Louis can’t see when he reads it but he’s sure it goes through and that’s enough. Exhaling the last bit of secondhand smoke, he sighs and opens the door again, slipping back into the seat. 

“Alright?” Zayn asks, glancing at him over his shoulder as he starts the car again. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Louis nods, his eyes forward. “Let’s do this.” 

Just briefly, Louis can see Zayn’s lip twitching at the corner, the beginnings of a smile breaking through his tough facade. He’s a little bit odd, but Louis feels like they have more in common than either of them know. He hopes he and Liam can work out their differences almost as much as he wishes Harry’s arms were around him right now, Niall’s laughter bubbling from the front seat. Safe. Familiar. 

Forcing himself to think positively, Louis keeps his eyes out the front dash and his chin as high as he can manage. He wonders if Harry’s thinking about him right now, because Louis hasn’t stopped thinking of him since the last time he saw his face, still bright and vivid and lovely behind his eyelids. 

He closes his eyes, leans his head back on the seat, and tries to get some much needed sleep. 

+

Less than two hours after that, it becomes obvious that sleep isn’t an option. Zayn’s driving is smooth and relaxing but Louis’ brain is the opposite, whirring with the possibilities of what they might encounter when they arrive. 

He’s never been good with the unknown. His schedules are all he has to cling to now that Harry and the rest of them are gone, and now those are history as well. All he’s got now is himself and Zayn and only the very beginnings of some small semblance of a plan. 

Zayn seems perfectly casual sitting beside him, driving like this is the kind of mission he’s on all the time. Louis knows he must be nervous but the fact that he isn’t showing it is catching him off guard a bit. 

He’s just so curious. Harry told him a little bit of what happened but not really enough to understand, and he’s dying to know. Shifting sideways in his seat, Louis rests his cheek against the leather and sticks his hands between his thighs to warm them, his eyes flicking up to Zayn’s stoic face. 

“Aren’t you scared?” Louis asks, braver in the dark than he’d been earlier. “I know you didn’t really want to come back, but...” he trails off. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come back,” Zayn says. “It’s not - I just didn’t feel like I  _ could,” _ he murmurs. 

Sleepily, Louis’ brows dip inward and his mouth curves into a frown, his mind running with the possibilities of what that could mean. From Zayn’s face, it seems like he already knows Louis’ going to ask. 

“We may have more in common than you think,” he mutters. 

“How do you mean?” Louis pushes, suddenly even more curious. 

With a sigh, Zayn shifts over empty lanes and runs a hand through his hair as if preparing himself for the strength he’ll need to tell the story. Louis gulps, settling back into his seat to listen. 

“You aren’t the only one who had family involved in the business,” he says, his lip curled back bitterly. “Most of my relatives were into some not so good things. Once I found out about it, they wanted me to be a part of it. Before I knew better, before I knew everything they were  _ really _ doing, I said yes.” 

Louis nods. His story is kind of like Niall’s so far, and Louis makes connections to their stories while he speaks. 

“As some sort of initiation, they told me I had to take out some of the people that were targeting us. They were hurting my family, so I said yes. Within a few days they’d taught me how to fight and how to shoot a gun and they said I was ready.” 

_ Days? _ Louis’ been getting lessons from Harry for months now and he isn’t even sure he retained everything he’s been taught properly. He can’t imagine having a gun shoved into his hand for a few hours and then being put into a life or death situation so young. 

Though he supposes that his father had been putting them all in danger for much longer than they even knew. Ignorance is bliss, Louis muses. 

“They set everything up beforehand. I was just supposed to go in and take them out, then leave,” Zayn says. 

“You couldn’t do it?” Louis murmurs, sensing where the story is going. Zayn ignores his question. 

“I walked into the building and followed the instructions to where they were supposed to be,” he pauses, swallowing. “When I made it to the alley, they were there. Just standing there. All I had to do was shoot them.” 

“How many of them were there?” 

“Three,” Zayn answers. “They all turned on me and tried to attack me and I realized that they knew I was coming, that the entire thing was some kind of set up to see if I’d make it. They’d done the same thing to my younger nephew and I’m still surprised I didn’t figure it out sooner. They wanted to see what I would do,” he repeats, “if I’d shoot them fast enough or if they’d get me first.” 

“That’s awful, Zayn,” Louis says quietly. 

Dismissing him with a wave, Zayn moves lanes again and passes under a streetlight, his tired eyes illuminated for a few seconds as he continues. “I didn’t shoot them. Obviously. I - started crying instead.” 

Raising a brow in the darkness, Louis struggles to picture Zayn crying. But he figures he would have done much worse if he’d been in the same situation. 

“I begged them not to hurt me and said I didn’t want to hurt them and that I had no idea what I was doing. They were suspicious at first, but they had every right to be.” 

“So what happened?” Louis asks, “They just let you go?” 

“Not quite.” Zayn’s lips twitch slightly. “They offered me a job working for them.” 

“And you took it?” 

“Louis,” Zayn says monotonously, his eyes sliding over to him across the console. “It was the guys.” 

“Wha -  _ oh, _ ” he gasps, eyes wide. “The guys were gonna kill you? You were gonna kill the  _ guys? _ ” he squeaks. 

“Obviously I didn’t,” he repeats his earlier statement. “And they didn’t hurt me either. Back then they were just as clueless as I was pretty much so we both were just relieved at that point honestly.” 

Yeah, Louis’ heard  _ those _ stories. They had the muscle and the charm and the getaway car but they didn’t have any real direction, the all consuming passion but none of the organizational skills. The research and planning portion of their still-new arrangement was seriously lacking before Zayn came. Louis’ still surprised that one of them got seriously hurt, following such bad men and still somehow escaping unharmed and successful. 

“For a long time I felt like I was better behind the scenes, like you,” he nods in Louis’ direction. “but then I started teaching myself how to fight and I realized I could do that too.” 

“So, if things were so good, why did you leave?”

Surely Liam, Niall, and Harry would’ve protected him from any harm, and Louis can’t think of a reason to leave them. He doesn’t think he could if he tried - he’s having a hard enough time dealing with the current situation without breaking down completely. 

After a long pause, Zayn seems to figure out what he’s trying to say. “I was terrified for a long time that my family would find me. At first I just figured they would think I was dead, but one day I saw my cousin at the supermarket. I don’t know if he knew it was me or not but I got so paranoid. I had nightmares every night that they would find out where I was and take all of us out.” 

“I know what you mean,” Louis whispers. 

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes, hollow. “And at that point they - the guys, Liam, Niall, and Harry -  _ were _ my family. I would’ve done anything to protect them,” he insists, his hands shifting on the steering wheel as they pass under another streetlight. His posture has gone from relaxed to tense in the span of a few minutes. “I started telling Liam that maybe I wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Maybe I should just go live somewhere far away and count my blessings before they were gone, but he didn’t understand, and I don’t blame him,” he shakes his head. “I ran into my cousin again a few months later but he wasn’t alone. My uncles and other cousins were there too. They offered me an ultimatum,” he breathes. “Either I come back to their side and they leave the guys alone, or I stay with them and they’d make it their mission to take us down. All of us. And I knew they could.” 

Sucking in a breath, Louis tenses. He has a feeling his confrontation with his own father won’t be that pleasant, but Louis doesn’t think he’s as good at navigating this kind of thing as Zayn apparently was. Louis would probably just stutter and stumble all over himself. He gulps and refocuses. 

“So I agreed that I would go with them, but I knew I couldn’t actually do that to the guys, obviously. I went back with them for the night and went on one of their missions with them the next day. We got split up somehow at this giant empty building and I was at the back while they were all out front. One of the men from the other side doused the whole thing in flames and lots of people got stuck inside,” he explains. “But I was close enough to the back door already that I just kicked it open and got out. My wallet was in my pocket so I just - ran. And I never looked back. I assume they think I didn’t make it out of the fire, which would mean that our deal still stood - that they wouldn’t hurt the guys because they think I died in good honor.” 

Blinking once, twice, Louis takes a moment to comprehend everything. He understands everything now, why he did everything he did and how that fits into what Harry and the others have told him, but he still doesn’t really get the last missing piece. 

“And now you’re back,” Louis deadpans, still somewhat shocked at all of his admissions. 

“I’m sure Liam’s complained about my independence,” he says bitterly, “but the truth is I still care about them. They’re good guys and I hated the thought of them being hurt because of me. I kept tabs on them for a long time, but they know how to take care of themselves. When you came along I could finally relax for a bit,” he jokes. “I came back because I decided to check up on everyone again and I noticed a pattern. Wherever you guys went, there was always someone that checked in right after you. Always under a different name, but when I hacked the cameras it was always the same face. I caught the earliest flight back and tried to start taking them out before you guys so that maybe they would start following me instead and I could confuse them. The reason I didn’t tell any of you is because I had no idea who it was. I didn’t even consider the fact that you might’ve had any sort of idea.” 

“So that’s why you were there that day,” Louis realizes. “You tried to get to him before he could get to us.” 

“Exactly,” Zayn nods. “I thought that would take care of it because it didn’t seem to be a team like usual - I thought if I took out that one guy that you wouldn’t be bothered anymore.”

“But it wasn’t just him,” Louis finishes, the cogs turning in his brain. 

“No, it wasn’t,” he confirms, “but you can’t blame yourself for that. You were just trying to do what you should, what you knew - you were giving them bad people to get rid of.” 

“But I shouldn’t have been so obvious about it. I should’ve known that he would catch on at some point. I’ve never been as smart as I thought I was,” he mutters. 

Zayn goes silent for a few minutes and Louis keeps his bottom lip between his teeth so he won’t cry and make a fool of himself, interpreting the pause as the unspoken answer to his own rhetorical question. 

“You may be related, but you’re not your father, Louis,” Zayn tells him. “You’re smarter than him in almost every way - use that to your advantage. You’re more than just what you can do on a computer,” he insists. “Don’t let him manipulate you.” 

Louis supposes he knows that, he just hasn’t ever been very  _ good _ at it. He can’t even begin to imagine how Zayn did all of that. There are silver linings, he supposes, but finding them is sometimes more difficult than he’d like to admit. 

“How did you even deal with all of that?” he whispers, voice raw. “I don’t even want to think about everything, I- if they’re hurt, Zayn, I’ll never forgive myself. I-” 

“Louis,” Zayn cuts him off again, “the only thing we can do right now is exactly what we  _ are _ doing. Worrying about it is only going to slow us down.” 

“But what if they are hurt?” Louis argues, “What if we’re too late?” 

A pause. “Then we’ll deal with that if it happens. This isn’t a what if, Louis. We know facts and we’ll work with the facts. I know you’re nervous and, to be honest with you, I am too. We’ve gotta stay positive, though, yeah?” 

When he’s so anxious that’s difficult to do. Right now everything kind of seems like it’s falling apart around him, like he’s put everyone he loves in danger, like he can already feel the phantom hands of guilt twisting things around in his head. But Zayn’s right, he can’t afford to be thinking like that right now. There’s too much at stake, too much they could lose if he’s busy wallowing instead of giving his best effort. 

A memory materializes behind his eyelids when he blinks slowly, a fuzzy image of he and Harry from a few years back. They hadn’t known each other quite as well back then, but Harry still managed to be the only one who could coax him out of his dark moods. 

On a particular night when they’d had a failed mission, Louis had already been considering quitting the group altogether. Harry came to his room and made himself at home, reclined on the sofa, flicked on the television, and brought a myriad of snacks for them to eat. Louis’d never really been treated like that before. 

It’d taken him a few hours to make Louis talk. And Louis had himself convinced he wouldn’t be talking about how he felt at all, but Harry was too understanding to decline, and soon enough Louis was spilling out everything that’d been sitting on his shoulders the weeks before. It was the true start of their friendship. 

After Louis vented to him, he remembers Harry listening intently, then standing from the couch to fill up a hotel glass with some water. He’d returned to Louis and sat facing him, the water sat between them. 

_ You see this glass? _ he’d asked Louis.  _ Take a drink, just a sip. _

Brows furrowed, Louis’d taken a sip and then set it back down between them. Carelessly Harry jostled around and shifted, and Louis panicked as more water began to leak out with his movements, splashing onto the floor and the cushions. 

_ There’s always going to be good and bad, Louis. There will be times when you feel so drained that you aren’t sure if you can get up again, _ he’d explained. With one final movement, he’d picked up the glass and dumped the rest of it onto the floor as Louis gasped.  _ People will take the energy out of you without asking or even considering what they’re doing first. But do you know what you’ve got?  _

Louis shook his head. 

_ You’ve got perspective. You’ve got the power to make more good out of the bad. _

Harry stands again and opens the fridge, pulling out a single ice cube from the freezer. He walks back and stops in front of Louis. 

_ Open your hand.  _

Slowly Louis’ palm raised and his fingers stiffened and separated, glancing up with wide eyes at this weird, new friend he’d stumbled upon. Harry dropped the ice cube in his open hand and they both watched as it melted, the seconds ticking by until it was completely liquid. Then, gently, he’d circled his own fingers around Louis’ wrist and dumped the water back into the cup. He held it up between them, the small liquid visible at the bottom of the glass cup. 

_ See? _ he’d said.  _ It’s never truly empty. And neither are you.  _

Looking back on it now, it’s about as cheesy as he expects from Harry. The lesson stuck with him though, and now every time he’s down he forces himself to remember it. 

The memory dissipates and his eyes flicker open once again to the darkness of the car. 

“The glass is half full,” Louis echoes the lesson roughly. 

“That’s the spirit,” Zayn cheers, half-heartedly smiling at him from behind the wheel. 

Louis tries to mirror it but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s stuck until they get there, desperately searching for something he can use as his ice cube, something he can use to make sunshine out of despair.  _ Hold on, _ Louis tries to say to them in his brain,  _ we’re on our way. _

He clings to the water bottle he bought in the store, slick between his hands from the condensation. The small droplets land on the back of his hand and seep into his clothes, the cold a much needed reminder. Bringing his hands up to rub across his face, Louis inhales when the cool AC hits his wet skin, making him alert and more focused than he’d been before. 

He’s going to do this. Whatever it takes. Each of them were there for Louis when he needed it, and this time it’s the other way around. 

He’s going to do what it takes to get them out of there safely, even if that means sacrificing himself in the process. If he can’t find any anywhere else, he may just have to be his own ice cube. 

Louis gives up trying to be polite and cranks the radio high the way he knows Harry would if he were here, re-crosses his legs in the seat, and leans his head against the car window, breathing until the glass fogs up with the warmth. 

+

Parked far above the casino on a steep overhang, Louis can see the entire plot of land below them. It’s a large building, naturally, and he’s already sort of overwhelmed just looking at it. Zayn’s already been searching up the area on his phone to get a better idea of what they’ll encounter down there, making sure they account for any possible risk. 

“It looks like they’ve only got a couple of guys stationed near the back entrance,” Zayn notes, using his phone camera to zoom in at an angle of the edges of the building. “They’ve probably got cameras but that won’t be an issue if we’re going at night, especially if you’re just walking straight in. They’ll be preoccupied with you while I come through the front and meet you down there.” 

“Okay,” Louis agrees blankly. 

“I think we’re gonna be able to pull this off,” he says, locking his phone again and pulling the seat belt back over his chest. 

They’d stopped somewhere a few hours back to get Louis a gun from someone who owed Zayn a favor, and after some accelerated courses on how to shoot it, Louis feels both just a little bit better and exceptionally worse about the entire situation. 

Now they just have to wait. It’s midafternoon right now and Zayn says the ideal time to go is at night so they won’t be as easily detected. Louis just smiles and nods. Or, really, he just nods. 

Reaching behind the seats, Zayn pulls out a notebook and pencil from the pocket and sets it in his lap, sketching out the outside of the building roughly. Already incredibly accurate, Louis gawks at the sketch and then furrows his brows when he starts drawing the inside of the bottom floor where they assume they are. 

“How do you know what it looks like inside?” 

“Once you get past the top level of the casino, it used to be an old packaging company that they just built on top of. They’re all laid out roughly the same,” he explains. “They’ve usually got the offices up here on the open second level which, if I’m guessing, is where he’s got them locked up. Luckily, I can get through them no problem.” He gestures to a bag of tools in the back that he’d mentioned earlier, his practiced skill of picking locks just another thing to add to the list. “Now, you’ll go in here,” Zayn points to a spot on his page, “where the guys at the entrance will probably make sure that you’re unarmed. That might be tricky, but we’ll strap it to your inner thigh since the gun is small enough to go unnoticed there and they won’t feel up that high.” 

“And then once I’m in?” Louis asks. 

Adding a few more detailed lines, Zayn marks a few spots around the inside of the building he’s created with dark X’s. 

“If your dad’s like any other of these guys we’ve done business with before, he’ll be standing right here, out in the open. They like a dramatic entrance, and they like looking powerful and unafraid. The operating floor would have been just one big open plan, so chances are you’ll be face to face with him as soon as you get past the entrance and down the stairs.” 

Louis gulps when he pictures it in his head. If he’s even able to get past whoever’s at the main doors, he’ll have to walk up to his father in full view. Somehow he’s going to have to seem confident too, demanding and distracting enough to keep his father’s attention. 

“Don’t let it stress you out too much,” Zayn continues. “On the bright side, you’ve taken out nearly all of his men. There’s a good chance that if I can free the guys fast enough, we’ll outnumber them.” 

At least there’s one silver lining, Louis supposes. His heart kicks as he glances back down at the real building, when he envisions them in there.  _ We’re coming, _ he thinks again.  _ Don’t give up just yet. _

“That’s - good? I guess,” Louis mutters. 

“It  _ is _ good,” Zayn insists. “You’ve managed to steal them all right out from under his nose without stirring up too much trouble. That’s something to be proud of.” 

“That’s exactly what got us into this in the first place,” he argues. 

“Still doesn’t matter. It happened. We’re here, and we have the means to take care of it. There’s no use dwelling on the past.” 

Zayn puts away his things and starts the car again, heading back to a more private place to park until later on when it gets dark. The next few hours consist of Louis’ constant worrying and Zayn’s attempts to calm him down again, and several times Louis has to get out and walk around for a bit because he thinks he might be sick. 

At six o’clock they stop at another gas station so Louis can change into some different clothes. Despite Zayn’s request that they stop and buy him some contacts and a more distinguished outfit, Louis declined. If he’s doing this his way, there’s no more pretending than need-be. When he sees his father again he wants it to be real. Raw. Louis wants to see the look on his face, if he’s even the slightest bit regretful for what he’s done to all of them. 

He probably won’t be, but Louis supposes it’s the thought that counts. 

So he shrugs into his button up with the yellow sweater over the top, light wash jeans underneath that are rolled up to his ankles. He spends too long messing with his collar but he’s glad for the small familiarity of it all, his tennis shoes tied just on the right side of too tight and his glasses still perched on the end of his nose. If nothing else goes right, at least he feels true to himself. 

By seven o’clock he’s back to where he started. His palms are sweaty and the jeans dig into his nervous stomach, chewing on a fingernail to keep himself occupied. Zayn goes over the plan again and Louis tries his best to listen even though his ears are ringing. As much as they’ve been talking about it, everything kind of  _ just _ settled in his brain. This really is life or death, isn’t it? 

Eight o’clock blinks on the digital clock and Louis steps out of the car again just as the sun is beginning to set. With a hand clutched to his mouth, he stumbles over to the nearest tree and leans against it, soft fingertips turning red against the rough bark of the branch. Louis digs his hand into it and focuses on the feeling so he won’t get sick. 

A car door opens and shuts in the distance, and Zayn’s head appears next to him. He sits down on the curb and sighs. 

“You alright, Louis?” 

“No,” he chokes. “I can’t do it, Zayn, I can’t -” 

“Louis,” he soothes, “this is your team we’re talking about, alright? This is your  _ family. _ I haven’t known you long but I know you’d do just about anything you could to keep them alive and safe, yeah?” 

Lower lip wobbling, Louis nods but struggles to find his voice. Of course he’d do anything for them, but he doesn’t want to die if it’s for nothing, if he can’t hold up his end of the deal just long enough for Zayn to get them out first. There’s no guarantee here, on  _ anything, _ and that’s becoming abundantly clear. 

“I - yeah. Yeah, I would. But they’re gonna be so mad at me,” he whispers, voice hitching around a poorly concealed sob. 

“They’re not gonna be mad. They’re gonna be really fucking grateful to be  _ alive. _ You’re not the bad guy here, Louis. And you’re not a victim. Don’t forget that.” 

Louis knows that. He  _ knows. _ But he isn’t a hero either, is he? He’s never been cut out for that. He’s made to be in the background, to encourage and aid while the others handle the heroics. Every single scenario in his head, every way that he’s tried to picture this going, it doesn’t end well. 

It’s a nice daydream to imagine that they’re invincible but that’s never been quite true. His father’s got weapons and teams and resources that they don’t have. He’s got all of that and he knows Louis, what he stands for and what he believes in and just how much he’s willing to do for the people he loves, which may be their biggest disadvantage yet. 

Moving some of his hair off of his forehead with the back of his hand, Louis wipes his brow to rid himself of the sweat from the afternoon sun. He slides down the trunk and sits on the curb next to Zayn, checking his watch. 

It’s eight thirty-three. Louis’ got twenty seven minutes left to prepare himself. 

Each one of them feels like it passes quicker than the last to the soundtrack of complete silence. Zayn doesn’t try to reassure him any more than he already has and Louis wouldn’t listen to him if he did. By the time he does speak up again, an eerie calm has settled on Louis’ shoulders. 

“You ready to go?” 

How is he supposed to answer that? If life moved at a pace Louis was comfortable with, was truly  _ ready _ for, he’d have never gotten out of his father’s basement, a nerdy little kid with acne scars and suspenders and his computer as his only friend. 

Funnily enough, it’s that thought that spurs him into action. He kicks a rock across the pavement in front of them, watching it skid across the concrete before coming to a stop just before the side of the road. 

“I’m ready,” Louis tells him. 

Zayn offers him a hand to help him up and they head back to the car. Just as Louis gets inside the sun goes down fully and the casino lights flick on in the distance. 

“Let’s go get them back.” 

+

At nine o’clock exactly, Louis begins the trek from the crowded parking lot to the casino. His brain is going haywire but Zayn’s words replay in his head, reminding him that this isn’t about him. This is bigger than just himself, and he’s fully capable of it, even if he doubts himself sometimes. Ironically, he thinks maybe that’s what Harry’s been trying to teach him all this time. 

Zayn’s already inside, entering through the front about ten minutes prior for a short head start. Louis’ supposed to arrive at the back entrance at 9:10. In the overlap, Zayn had already managed to locate an upstairs bathroom of the casino with a vent that leads directly down to where they are. He’ll lock the door, remove the vent cover, and drop straight onto the upper level of the underground where Harry, Liam, and Niall are. Louis just tries to focus on his own job. 

Motion sensored lights blink on as soon as Louis steps in range of them but he tries not to let them break his stride. As if they’d been expecting him, two men stand from where they’d been leaning against the back walls, the outline of their guns prominent on the sides of their hips. They’re styled as bouncers but Louis knows what they really are. He swallows thickly. 

“Name?” one of them grits. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” he says. 

The name seems to trigger something, just like Zayn said it would. With a sharp nod toward the other man, they step back and open the doors for him. On the inside, Louis feels so relieved he could cry - they hadn’t even checked to see if he had a gun. He laces his fingers together in front of him and nods politely so they won’t see how badly he’s shaking, walking forward into the dim warehouse. 

Louis fights every instinct inside of him to keep his eyes on the floor and raises them instead, surveying the building from the inside. He’s not entirely surprised to see that it’s much the way Zayn described it in his sketch, iron railing with hallways up above his head and rooms with locks on them. Below, the floor is just open straight through to the other side. While he’s away from the guards and concealed from his father, he moves the gun from his inner thigh to his waistband in case he needs it. 

Right near the entrance opens up onto a mid-level, a staircase he has to descend onto the main floor. Louis takes the steps with careful precision and forces his breathing to stay even as he draws closer and closer to whatever’s about to happen and further away from where his friends are supposed to be. 

When he steps off the final stair, he lifts his head once again and catches sight of his father standing in the middle of the floor. Head held high, he holds his breath and continues toward him without faltering. 

“Louis,” he greets formally. 

There’s a hint of a smile on his crooked lips and Louis represses a full body shiver at the memories it conjures up from his childhood. He hadn’t ever wanted to see that face again in his life. 

“Mark,” Louis returns. 

Raising an amused brow at the use of his real name, his father links his fingers together behind his own back and begins to slowly pace in front of him. Louis takes note of his high end suit and attire that, on closer inspection, show off several stains around the chest and a ripped tear in the elbow pad. It’s fully ironic and Louis would be laughing if he weren’t absolutely terrified. 

“I’m surprised, honestly, that you managed to make it this far,” his father says conversationally. “Thought you’d be stuck behind that computer screen like usual.” 

“Let them go,” Louis grits quietly, the weight of the gun practically burning the skin on his waist, unfamiliar and uncomfortable despite his practice beforehand. If he plays his cards right, he won’t have to use it. He’s supposed to be a distraction.  _ Just _ a distraction. 

Mark laughs, head thrown slightly backward like every villain Louis’ ever seen. From the corner of his eye, Louis sees Zayn step toward the others silently, gliding along the far wall like a smooth shadow. 

“Come on, Louis. You may have been a loner but you were never stupid.  _ Too _ smart, even, maybe.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment from him Louis’ ever received. He doesn’t let it get to his head. “At first I thought maybe it was just a coincidence. I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt,” he says, like it’s some wonderful act of generosity. “But then it became a pattern, and I reconsidered.” 

Turning on his heel once more, Mark continues his pacing. Louis clenches his fist and tries not to yell at him, the routine already driving him mad.  _ Stay calm, _ he reminds himself. It hasn’t even been very long yet and Zayn still needs more time to get in and free the others. All Louis needs to do is keep him occupied. 

“Are you aware just how many of my men you’ve killed, Louis?” Mark continues. 

“Are you aware of how many  _ innocent _ people  _ you’ve _ killed?” 

That manages to get him to stop his movements, his entire demeanor shifting from coy and confident to very angry in the span of a few seconds. Louis gulps but does his best not to show it. 

“I see you’ve finally grown a backbone, hm? Lovely,” Mark mutters. “But let’s get one thing very clear. You’re out of cards, Louis. You thought I wouldn’t catch you? That I wouldn’t realize what you were doing? You are my son, after all.” 

“Not your son,” Louis utters under his breath. 

Mark pauses again, raises a single brow. 

“Excuse me?” 

A small creak sounds from above their heads and Louis panics, raising his voice to keep his father from moving his attention to it. His narrowed eyes flicker but ultimately stay on Louis’ face, his exaggerated frown shifting the wrinkles on his jaw and cheeks as he moves. 

“I’m not your son,” Louis stands his ground, speaking louder. 

His father resumes his step, that filthy smirk still on his lips. Louis wishes he was brave enough to slap it off of him. Squinted eyes land on him from a few feet away, so thin that Louis struggles to make out his pupils. 

“Nothing beats blood, Louis. And you’ve got mine running through you. Try all you like, but it’s undeniable.” 

There’s another creak but Louis doesn’t need more motivation to keep talking this time. Hot anger burns in his veins and he clenches his fists again, his fingernails carving half-moons into his own palms. All at once, his memories come flooding back to him and he shakes with the force of them, of having to keep all of his feelings about it inside for so long. If this is his last chance to get things off his chest, he’s going to take it. 

“If you were really my blood you would have cared about me. You would have checked up on me all these years. You wouldn’t have forced us into this situation in the first place,” he says. “You would have actually been a  _ dad. _ ” 

“Ah, yes, spare me the childhood trauma,” his father scoffs. “Poor, lonely Louis. Are you satisfied with yourself now? With what you’ve gotten your friends into? You don’t get to blame me, Louis. This was all  _ you _ .” 

“You’re wrong,” his voice trembles, but not with tears. His father’s always been good at deflecting, at avoiding the real issue, and he’s doing the same thing right now. Louis refuses to be fooled this time. 

“I’m not  _ wrong _ . For years now you’ve been messing up my plans, you little  _ shit _ . Did they even know what you were doing? What kind of trouble you were getting them into?” He mocks with a harsh laugh. “Well,  _ enough.  _ Your time is up. You’ve cost me millions of dollars, plenty of useful men. You take my things, Louis? I’ll take yours right back. And I’ll do you one - several -  _ better. _ ” 

There’s a clicking sound off to one side, where Zayn’s just managed to get the last cell open. Louis’ anger leaves him, suddenly overcome with dizzying worry once again.  _ Run _ , he thinks helplessly. 

“ _ Fucking- _ ” Mark swears, yelling several commands at the far doors. 

They slide open and several men rush inside, big guns in their hands and determined footfalls echoing inside of the lower level of the casino. Louis glances quickly toward the rest of his friends against the far wall upstairs, then dives behind one of the boxes behind him just as the sound of gunshots ricochets in his ears. 

Breathing fast, he sits with his knees to his chest, frantically trying to see around the stacks and not get hurt in the process. He thinks he may have sprained his bad ankle in the fall but he can’t spare a thought for it right now, too worried about the rest of them to think properly. 

The upper platform is empty now when he glances up through the metal, the cell doors open and no feet on top of the walkway. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and prays that they’re taking cover elsewhere, trying to keep his airways open but gasping each time another shot goes off. 

“Louis,” Zayn yells suddenly from his right, ducking behind some more boxes. Hand flying to his chest, he tries to shake off his surprise. “You have your gun, yeah?” He asks. 

Louis nods. 

“Use it.” 

Gulping, Louis watches him stand up again, headed back out into the gunfire with his weapon ready to fire. Hands numb, Louis fumbles for his own gun nestled underneath his 

It takes him too many moments to stand properly, to peek around and see what’s happening. Liam’s already got one of them pinned to the ground, his punches landing on someone who’s obviously losing the fight, their gun kicked far off to the side. 

A bit farther over Niall fires his gun at one of the men behind him, then quickly spins as another approaches and snags him with his aim too. Louis thinks he might be sick. Zayn’s taking care of himself, already two more men on the ground in front of him as he aims for another. 

Harry, though - Harry’s fighting Mark. Louis can see them perfectly from across the warehouse, the determined look in Harry’s eye as he lands punch after punch on Louis’ father. It isn’t as clear as the other fights, though, not when Mark is more trained than all of his minions. Harry has the upperhand but several times he wavers, struggling when Mark manages to catch his jaw and knock him backward a few steps. 

Without thinking about it Louis’ stumbling out into the middle of everything, headed in that general direction. Before he can get there, there are thick arms around his waist, preventing him from moving further. Louis panics, and then tries desperately to calm himself. He can’t reach his gun from this position, even since he’d moved it from his thigh to his waist. 

When he opens his eyes again he sees Mark land another punch on Harry’s face, and everything comes rushing back to him. 

_ Bend. Elbow left. Elbow right.  _

Keeling forward and to the side with his hips, the guy seems confused as he scrambles to keep hold of Louis’ arms, but eventually he’s loose enough that he’s able to throw his elbow backward and up, right into the guy’s nose. It catches him off guard and his other arm breaks free, and then he throws that one back too, stumbling away from the man altogether as he clutches his bleeding face. 

He’s about to lunge for Louis again but Zayn comes from his right and tackles him to the ground, nodding toward Louis to go in the other direction where he’d been heading. He allows himself little time to be proud. 

Still a few feet away, Harry comes back strong at first but Louis can see he’s getting weaker, diving to the side when Mark hits him so hard in the chest that he keels over, an awful sound leaving his lips from the pain. 

“No!” fights its way up Louis’ throat and out of his mouth, nothing more than a whisper but overwhelmingly loud in his brain. 

Mark has taken plenty from him in his life. He can’t have this - can’t have Liam or Niall or Zayn. And he certainly can’t have  _ Harry _ . 

But then he’s stopped abruptly again, the same man who let him into the building appearing in front of him with his fists raised, his face already bruised and dripping blood. Louis winces and frantically racks his brain. 

“Heel-palm strike,” he mutters to himself. 

The man seems confused at what he’s just muttered but Louis doesn’t waste any time pulling his arms back and opening his palms wide, striking him in the throat and then the nose in quick succession. He aims a bit too far to the side but it still hits its purpose, and the guy stumbles forward, straight into Louis’ swift kick into his crotch. Once he’s on the ground and clutching himself, Louis kicks him once more for good measure and then continues toward Harry and Mark with a determined glint in his eye. 

His legs are moving so fast that they feel numb and Louis thinks he might be running, eyes focused on where Mark tries to pull a gun from his trousers. 

“No,” Louis says again, louder, closer. 

Gun aimed in Harry’s direction, his father smiles crookedly and there's a sharp click, turning the safety off just as Harry scrambles backward on the concrete on his elbows. Louis runs faster and uses it to his advantage that his father hasn’t noticed him yet, focused on Harry, and scrambles to think of some way he can overpower him. 

With a running start he doesn’t even have to consider it before he’s leaping onto one of the boxes off to the side and using it as a catapult, coming down hard on his father’s shoulders and knocking him to the ground. A gunshot goes off but Louis can only pray it went up toward the ceiling, his father’s gun scattering away from them as Louis’ knee digs hard into his side and takes him down. 

It knocks the air out of him at the very least, and the surprise registers in Mark’s eyes. By the time he’s realized what happened, Louis has him pinned to the ground. And, realistically, he could get up and push Louis off because he’s much larger than him. 

He could, if Louis didn’t already have his gun pointed at his face. 

He can still hear movement all around him, yelling and thuds as they take out the rest of the men, but Louis can’t tear his eyes away from his father’s bruised, bloody frown. He grimaces but holds his ground, tilting his head when Mark attempts to move again. 

“R - Really?” Mark asks gruffly. “So this is what it’s come to? My own flesh and blood? C’mon, Louis,” he coughs, wincing harshly. “We’re  _ family _ .” 

“We aren’t  family ,” Louis shakes his head, ignoring the way his voice gives out. “This - these people here,  _ they’re _ my  family . And they care about me more than you ever could. I’d take a bullet for them any day.” 

Louis’ eyes run over his face, over the features he recognizes in himself. They may have looked alike at some point but the differences are glaringly obvious now. 

His father is aged from the things he’s done, ugly scars and wrinkles marring his leathery skin. A trickle of blood runs down the side of his cheek from his mouth, small coughs as he struggles to keep pressure on the wound near his hip. Louis isn’t just a scared little boy anymore. 

Maybe once they could have had a relationship, something in common. But the man he’s looking at now is a stranger. Louis couldn’t give less of a shit about blood ties, not when his chosen family is standing behind him, fighting for him, ready to support him always in whatever ways they can. Louis’ certain. 

Flicking the safety off on the gun, he leans forward even further until he’s eye-to-eye with him, until Louis’ sure that he’s hanging onto every word. 

“You, on the other hand, deserve everything that’s coming to you.”

Behind them, everything has gone silent. When Louis glances over his shoulder it’s only the ones that matter left standing, Liam, Niall, Zayn, and Harry watching the exchange with proud eyes. He nods at them. 

Louis turns back to Mark and stares hard at him for another minute before he flicks the safety back on and pockets the gun again, standing up and stepping away from him. As soon as there’s space between them Liam and Niall are tying him to the wooden column, testing the ropes to make sure that he can’t get away. 

As they gag him, Louis steps backwards and feels Harry’s hand rest on his hip. Louis glances up at him and provides all the smile he can manage. Zayn dumps the heavy duffle bag at Mark’s feet, full with all of the evidence the cops will need to make the arrest and put him behind bars a thousand times over. 

It’s better this way, Louis thinks. His father doesn’t deserve to have such an easy out. He’s always had a deep fear of getting caught and going to prison, and Louis hopes he feels every last second of it in whatever high security cell they put him in. Maybe then he’ll feel a fraction of how Louis felt growing up. 

“Anything else you want to say?” Harry murmurs from beside him. 

Nodding, Louis approaches him one last time just as Liam, Niall, and Zayn are stepping away. He fixes him with an empty stare and tilts his head. This doesn’t need to be something profound, he reasons. He’s going to spare as little thought for his father as he had for him in return all those years ago, when he chose money and reputation over his own family. This is going to be short and sweet. 

“Goodbye, dad.” 

+

The adrenaline floods from his system very quickly. 

Reality rushes back into Louis’ senses and he panics again, shaking as he turns to the rest of them. Liam’s limping and Niall and Zayn are helping him over to a chair as he winces, but Louis’ eyes are drawn to Harry yet again. 

He’s sat up against some of the boxes, clutching his side. He’s still smiling softly at Louis but Louis can tell there’s something wrong. His eyes drag lower to where there’s bright red staining his shirt, dripping steadily and too fast onto his hand that’s tangled in the fabric. 

Harry’s been shot. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry tells him preemptively, “It just grazed me. Just gotta keep pressure on it until someone can stitch it up for me.” 

Louis nearly falls in his rush to make it over to him, kneeling and scooting himself so he can have Harry’s head in his lap. It’s familiar and Harry sighs gratefully when he’s settled and comfortable, reaching his other hand up to slide it over Louis’ cheek, wet with tears he hadn’t known were there. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he rasps, his busted lip turning into a smile. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Louis argues shakily. He grabs the hand on his face and cradles it to his chest. “And I put all of you in danger. I’m so sorry, Harry, I-” 

“Don’t do that, Louis. Your father was a very bad man, and he needed to be taken down. Do  _ not _ feel guilty for this.” 

The sound of all of the gunshots must have caught people’s attention and Louis hears sirens in the distance, headed straight for the casino. He bites his lip and glances down at Harry who’s still wincing in pain, then at Liam who’s clinging to Zayn because he can barely stand on his own two feet. 

Usually they wouldn’t be able to call an ambulance because of the need to keep their organization a secret. They take out the bad guys and do it without a trace, and so this far they haven’t ever been caught or attempted to be stopped in return for their part in karmic destiny. 

But the sirens ring closer and the far doors burst open again, several bodyguards from the casino staff rushing toward them to survey the scene. 

“I love you,” Harry tells him, but it sounds different this time. _ More. _

“I love you,” Louis echoes. He doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He’s nervous. Louis doesn’t know what’s going to happen now. Will they be punished anyway, even if they only took out the criminals? Will they be seperated for good? His heart aches to consider any of it. 

Just as he’s nervous though, he’s certain this was the way things were meant to go. Harry’s shivering in his arms now from trying to keep pressure on his wounds, his eyes flickering open and shut while he huffs out short breaths. Still, his hold never loosens on Louis’ hand. 

Moving some of the hair out of his face, Louis smiles when Harry manages to meet his eye, then leans himself forward to press a feather light kiss to his open lips. Harry strains to keep them connected even as he groans, and Louis shushes him with another kiss to the cut on his cheek. 

A few feet away from them, Niall’s taken Zayn’s other side to keep Liam standing. His heart pangs again, noting the true fear in Zayn’s eyes. The first time he’s ever witnessed that reaction from him. 

It’s time for things to change. Even as the sirens close in and more people flood into the room around them, time seems to move in slow motion. He’s enjoyed his life up until this point, but it sort of feels like everything has been leading up to this moment. His entire purpose for getting involved in all of this in the first place was to stop his father from hurting anyone ever again, and now they’ve accomplished that. 

It’s time for a new chapter, he thinks. The bottom line here, in the moment, is that Harry and Liam need medical assistance. If they aren’t okay, there’s no point in anything else anyway. Maybe after this things can be different. Louis won’t have to look over his shoulder constantly and maybe Zayn won’t have to either. Maybe they can all move somewhere else and settle down and live the lives they deserved to live in the first place, devoid of whatever antagonized each of them in the past. 

It’s time to get their own karma, whatever it may be. Louis trusts the universe because it led him to the guys. To happiness. To Harry. Whatever happens now is out of his control. 

He grins down at Harry and runs a thumb over his cheek, soft in contrast with the dirt and dried blood on top of his smooth skin. Even in pain, Harry mirrors his expression. Louis doesn’t look away even as people start yelling around them, as they’re surrounded on all sides. He’s never liked uncertainty but he can’t deny the flicker of excitement about the opportunity of a future without anymore fear. He’s ready. 

It’s time to come clean. 

+

If he hadn’t been convinced any of it was real before, seeing his name in the news has definitely solidified everything in Louis’ brain. 

They’d been taken down to the station after they were found. Harry and Liam were treated for their wounds before they were taken in for questioning with the rest of them, and Louis’ never been more relieved to be able to go to a hospital without having to worry about them asking questions they wouldn’t be able to answer properly. 

Somehow, they’re getting out of all of this okay. Louis can’t believe it when they tell them the news. 

Apparently most of the people they’ve taken out have been on government lists for years with no luck. The officers and officials they talk to are in awe instead of angry, and even more so when they explain what they’ve done with the money over all these years. 

The smallest cut goes to themselves for mandatory expenses, for food and hotels and gas. The rest goes all over the world. 

Liam splits his down the middle, sending half home to his family and donating the other half to an anti-bullying campaign across the schools, an issue that’d been very personal to him growing up. Niall doesn’t bother keeping any more than he needs to survive, sending the rest of it to a charity from his hometown that helps fight homelessness and provides free lodging for youths that’ve been kicked out or abandoned. 

Harry, like he’d said, sent everything straight back to his mother and sister except for a small portion he added to his savings. He has dreams of a house one day, he says. A family. 

And Louis tries to choose something different every time. He’s got no one to share it with back home so he donates some to Liam and Niall’s charities and some to other causes wherever they’re staying. The anonymous donations always make headlines, but Louis doesn’t enjoy that so much as seeing the bright grins on everyone’s faces in the pictures. He hopes it makes a difference that he might’ve enjoyed himself when he was younger. 

Whatever they had left on them they turned in to the authorities. Each of them have savings anyway, and it wasn’t really their money in the first place. The team assigned to their case is mostly too shocked at all of their stories to dispute anything. 

It takes hours. Days, actually. Louis’ entire body is sore from the mission plus sitting in the plastic chairs at the station for so long, and he knows the rest of them are just as uncomfortable. 

They stay until they’ve recounted every single mission. At some point Louis’ laptop is retrieved from the car he and Zayn arrived in and Louis shows them everything he has, all of the details from planning to fruition. 

By the time they all get to walk out, the sunlight is blinding but not so much as the camera flashes they’re greeted by. They’re escorted to their own car, driven to yet another hotel in an undisclosed location even to them, to be surrounded by high security until the publicity dies down. Louis’ just happy they’re all still together. He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and leans on him the entire ride there. 

Harry’s family shows up a few days later and Louis gets to meet them just like he’d always dreamed. It’s a tearful reunion, filled with apologies and declarations and lots of group hugs, but the difference in Harry is obvious. He’s been sending them money for years now but they hadn’t used any of it because they thought it was dirty. 

Now they’re getting to see the real Harry. Louis’ got no business crying for him, but he does anyway. 

Liam’s family also comes by at some point during the week and he manages to remove himself from Zayn’s side for long enough to talk with them properly, but Louis doesn’t miss the blush on Zayn’s cheeks when Liam introduces him. 

With those two occupied, Louis and Niall stick together for most of the down time and just try to get back into somewhat of a routine. They discuss what they want to do now, where they’ll live and what jobs they’ll have. Everything seems crystal clear to Louis now. There’s only one issue. 

He and Harry haven’t talked about anything yet. The magnitude of the situation they’d gone through has put some things in perspective for Louis, and he knows what he wants now. Or, he’s always known rather, but now he feels confident enough to act on that. 

Except, no one’s given them any alone time. They were given their own rooms but Harry always sneaks in at night, exhausted from yet another day of questions and greetings and everything else, and passes out with his entire body wrapped around Louis’. Louis never has the heart to wake him when he does. 

The following weekend, when Harry’s family leaves to go back home and things settle down just a little bit more, he finally gets his chance. 

And he takes it, approaching Harry as soon as both of them have a free moment. It’s the afternoon and Louis thinks no one else will be bothering them today, so he grips Harry’s sleeve and tugs to get his attention where they’re sat in the lounge room of the hotel with some of the officers and other family members. 

“Wanna go upstairs?” Louis whispers. 

“Absolutely,” he grins, taking Louis’ hand and not bothering with any goodbyes. 

No one stops them when they head for the lift and up to their rooms, Harry’s hand encasing his smaller one the entire way. They end up in Louis’ room again, and Louis strips off his shirt to change into something more comfortable as Harry does the same. He crawls onto the bed, patting the sheets for Harry to join him like usual. 

He kisses Louis’ cheek, then drops down beside him on the bed, drawing Louis’ wrist to his head so he’ll scratch it for him. Louis’ lips twitch at the familiar gesture. 

“Harry,” he asks, hands pausing for a moment to get his attention. “I have a question.” 

“Anything,” Harry murmurs, blinking his eyes open to look at him. 

It’s obvious he’s tired, and Louis is too, but there are things that he doesn’t think he can wait any longer to talk about. 

“Before the mission, I saw you talking with Liam,” Louis bites his lip. “You - he was telling you to keep all of us safe and you promised, but - your fingers were crossed. Why?” 

Harry’s brows raise but he doesn’t seem defensive, just genuinely surprised at Louis’ question. He purses his lips and sighs. 

“Oh, I - I didn’t think you saw that,” Harry clears his throat. 

“I did,” Louis whispers, drawing patterns with his nails on Harry’s scalp to calm him again. 

“It wasn’t anything bad,” Harry rushes, “I just - well, there’s really no going back from here, I suppose.” He chuckles lightly to himself, sitting up until he and Louis are eye to eye. Louis’ hand falls from his hair in the process, and Harry takes it in his own hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it. “I did promise Liam something, but it wasn’t what he thought. I said I would do whatever it took and I meant that. You know how much I love them, Louis, they’re my brothers. But my promise-” Harry pauses to swallow thickly, his hand tracing patterns on the back of Louis’ hand. “My promise was that I would do whatever it took to protect  _ you _ . Because - because I love you.” 

Louis’ calm exhales falter as he takes that in, wondering if there’s any way that Harry could mean what Louis thinks he means. That maybe he could feel the same way. 

“And I guess I didn’t even really do that,” Harry chuckles sadly. 

“Oh, Harry,” Louis placates, darting forward to hug him before he can think through his actions. He tries to communicate through it, to show him just how grateful he is as he squeezes his chest, how much he loves him with the way he disappears inside of his arms. Louis blinks rapidly to get rid of his own tears from the admission, sniffing into Harry’s shirt. 

It’s warm and lovely and Louis never really wants to leave, but soon enough there’s a gentle hand on the back of his neck pulling him away. He moves with it as it draws him backward, far enough so that Harry can press their foreheads together. 

“Louis,” he says softly, his breath across Louis’ lips when he speaks. 

He doesn’t even take into account the fact that this is the closest they’ve ever been before. Mostly because it all feels perfectly normal even though he can’t put a finger on  _ why _ , the rise and fall of their chests matching each other. Their noses bump once, twice as Harry tilts his head, shifting impossibly closer until their lips are touching. For a few seconds that’s all that happens. 

And then Harry gives up. Whatever weird tension had been between them before dissipates somewhere between their mouths as Harry really begins to kiss him, a big hand framing the side of his face and another thrown across his hip. Louis’ never been kissed before besides Harry’s pecks but he thinks he does fairly well for his part, if that means falling completely slack and just taking whatever Harry wants to give him. 

It’s over too soon, Louis’ eyes still shut when Harry pulls away to look at him again. Keeping them closed, Louis’ brow furrows. 

“Lou?” Harry checks, a nervous laugh tumbling from his lips. “Did I - was that too much? Oh God, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he rambles. 

Louis opens his eyes simply to seek out his lips once again, and then he dives back in. It cuts off whatever Harry had been about to say but he doesn’t think it’s all that important now anyway, not when they’re finally,  _ finally _ getting to have this. It’s felt like years in the making and Louis guesses it actually  _ was _ , unintentional  flirting and jealousy and hopeless crushes-turned-love thrown in landing them here. 

Here, in Harry’s lap with his lips on his own and his hands in Harry’s hair. Here, with his palms spreading over Louis’ back and neck like he’s thought about it before just now. Here, here, here. Louis wants to stay here forever. 

When they part again it seems quieter in the room, the noise of their lips breaking apart seeming louder than it should. He’s ended up somewhere halfway on top of him but Harry doesn’t move to push him off. Instead, he raises a hand to brush the hair back from Louis’ forehead and puts his lips there in a long kiss. 

“Thank you,” Louis whispers. 

Harry noses against his cheek until their foreheads are touching again, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck. “For what?” 

“For keeping your promise,” Louis murmurs. “For promising to protect me in the first place. For keeping me safe. For loving me.” 

“ _ Always _ , Louis,” he says, “I’ll always take care of you.” He leans up again even though Louis can see his grimace as the pain in his side stirs up again like it does sometimes, kissing Louis softly. “Just like you do for me.” 

Louis hadn’t ever thought about it like that, but he supposes Harry’s right. They kind of balance each other out, don’t they? He doesn’t think there would ever be another person who could understand what they went through, but even with that aside, he’s pretty set on Harry anyway. 

Shifting, Louis eases the pressure off of Harry’s side and settles next to him instead, linking their fingers together. Harry’s arm wraps around his back and draws him in close, and Louis pictures their future. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Louis says. 

“We are,” Harry nods. “We’re gonna be so much more than okay. You and me against the world, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles. 

He falls asleep without anything worrying his mind this time, knowing that when he wakes up it won’t be to the anxiousness of another mission or bad news. This time, when he wakes, it’ll be to the rest of his life. To new beginnings. To Harry. 

He falls asleep with a smile on his lips and Harry’s hand clutched in his own, grateful for the past but more than ready for whatever comes next. 

+

Louis leans back against the booth in the small cafe and pretends to be looking at his phone, the smell of coffee and baked goods dancing around his senses. He blinks against the light coming in through the large window next to him and readjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose to get rid of the glare as another group of people bustle past him. 

Just a few feet away he can see familiar chelsea boots and dark jeans, running his eyes up until he reaches a brown leather jacket and shoulder length curls. The side of Harry’s jaw moves mesmerizingly as he talks to the barista, his hands gesticulating in animated movements. 

Adorned with Christmas decorations, the cafe down the street from their cozy downtown apartment feels like it’s glowing, and so does Louis. Usually he dislikes this time of year because of the cold, but something about it (all of Harry’s coats and sweatshirts, to be exact) seems to be changing his mind very quickly. 

Just as he begins to get impatient, Harry turns from the counter and balances their drinks and food in his hands, setting it down on the table in front of him. 

“Finally,” Louis mutters, picking up the warmed croissant. “Did you get my almond butter?” 

“I think she’s catching on,” he mutters teasingly, tossing the packets in Louis’ direction, sliding into the booth beside him. “Don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to charm her into giving us free food when she realizes I’m off the market.” 

“Are you kidding?” Louis scoffs, “All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and she’d give you the entire store.” He spreads the butter thick onto the bread and takes a large bite, moaning at the familiar, sweet taste. “I don’t know how she hasn’t realized it yet - we’re literally here together all the time.” 

Harry leans back and spreads his legs cockily, throwing an arm around the back of his shoulders. “Can you blame her?” 

“You’re so full of yourself,” Louis counters, a fond smile on his lips. Harry reaches a hand up and wipes some of the butter from Louis’ chin, smirking. 

“Actually,” Harry begins, “if I remember correctly, I think it was  _ you _ last night who was full of-” 

“Guys!” 

Liam and Niall fly through the doors of the cafe, big smiles on their faces as they come at them with open arms. 

It’s been ages since they’ve seen the rest of them and Louis’ dying to catch up. The changes are obvious, but not as much as Louis thought they’d be. They’re still familiar enough to make Louis grin at the fond memories he has. 

Liam hugs him first, the arms of his suit jacket straining with how hard he wraps them around Louis. He’s buffer now, Louis notes, and he’s got his hair styled a different way. He looks much more professional, and Louis isn’t surprised. Liam works for the CIA now, after all. He’d expect nothing less. 

Louis greets him and then switches, leaning into Niall when he pats him on the back. He blinks back tears as they part - he’d missed them more than he thought. They each take their seats around the half-circle booth again, having no trouble filling the silence. 

“This is such a cute place,” Niall notes, glancing around. “I might have to bring the band here.” 

“We’d come see you,” Harry promises with a grin. 

At first, Louis was shocked when he found out Niall went and got himself a band to perform with. But after he heard them, he understood. The music is something Niall just enjoys in general, but the smaller aspects, like the writing, producing, singing, and traveling, help him cope with a lot of what they’d gone through before too. 

“Of course we would,” Louis adds, “It’s been far too long.” 

“I know, tour’s been crazy,” Niall groans, but he’s grinning. 

Harry leans forward and tosses an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “What about you, Li? Got anything new you can share with us?” 

“About work? Not really,” he laughs. “But I did finally get moved into the flat officially. It’s been stressful but I’m so happy with it. It’s close to work and the view is amazing and of course I love living with-” 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” 

Zayn rounds the corner with a hand fixing his hair, the strong wind outside persistent as ever this time of year. He leans forward and kisses Liam quickly before he sits down on the outside of the booth. 

“How was your meeting?” Liam asks him. 

He shrugs. “It was alright. I don’t know if I’ll say yes or not.” 

“What’s going on?” Niall asks, glancing between them. 

“Zee’s got an offer to do an exhibition of all of his artwork in the city,” Liam explains, smiling brightly and tugging him into his side. 

“That’s amazing,” Harry says, touching his cup to Zayn’s in mock-cheers. 

Louis grins brightly and echoes his own excitement for him, bringing his cup to join into the collective group. After he and Liam got back together officially, Zayn began hanging out with them more and it became obvious that he was very talented. Painting, drawing, and photography never failed to calm him and so he spent most nights, according to Liam, in their home studio making masterpiece after masterpiece. 

A lot of his work are abstract pieces but Louis always manages to find so much meaning within each one when he sees them. He smiles when he thinks of the custom piece he’d made for them that’s hanging above their bed at home. 

They’ve also commissioned another piece from him that’s sitting in the back of their car, ready to be wrapped and given to Harry’s family; they’re leaving to see them in just a few hours. Louis’ been down there with him a few times already now, and he’s happy to have a home to go back to for the holidays. 

It’s nearly closing time already when they’re finished talking, and Louis’ stomach grumbles underneath the table. 

“Haz,” Louis hums sweetly. “I think I’d like another croissant.” 

Harry groans, his head falling back against the booth. “Why does it always have to be  _ me? _ ” 

“She’s not staring at any of us, mate,” Niall chuckles. On cue, everyone glances over just in time to catch the barista hurriedly looking away, a blush high on her cheeks underneath the tacky santa hat that the employees have to wear. 

Sighing, Harry pulls himself out of the booth again and runs a hand through his hair, glancing back down at Louis with a small smile. 

“You want more almond butter?” he asks. 

“Yes, please,” Louis blinks up at him. 

Relaxing back into the seat again, Louis watches him go. He doesn’t think it’s something he’ll ever get tired of. He thinks he could watch Harry all day, and most of the time he does. When he talks and when he laughs, when he’s cooking dinner for them in the kitchen or when they’re tucked up in bed, giggling into each other’s mouths. 

It’s been years and still he can’t seem to get enough. He smiles back when Harry rolls his eyes and winks at him when the barista turns away to prepare his order, a secret between the two of them that never seems to get old. 

He can’t take his eyes off of him. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you like this fic, you can reblog it [here](https://soldouthaz.tumblr.com/post/632178051044753408/%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%AE%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A8-%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%9B%F0%9D%99%9B-%F0%9D%99%AE%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%AA-mature-40k-just-promise-me), which also shows the amazing graphic pupperlouis has done for me!!!! please be sure to give it and her some love! 
> 
> you can find me on both tumblr & twitter @soldouthaz ! thank you for reading and supporting me!


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